Part 6: I Don't Lie To You
by pjstillnoon
Summary: What if it all went back to the beginning? Where is the end? Chapters Edited 19/5/13
1. Chapter 1

_AN: August is the anniversary of me joining ffnet. In commemoration, here is part 6 : ) _

**PJ**

'_No_,' Gillian thought as she undid her seatbelt, grabbed her purse and rushed out of the car. She didn't even think to lock it. '_Please let him be okay_,' she begged silently as she moved into the ER department. She shakily told the nurse why she was there and mutely begged again. The nurse took her by the elbow and gently led her immediately to one of the trauma rooms. The nurse told her she should wait outside and a doctor would be with her soon, but Gillian could see through the window anyway. Out there it was like watching a television show. If she was in the room she might start to suspect this was real.

Cal was on the bed in the centre of the room. He was on his back and his neck was in a bright yellow brace. It was hard to see his face but she could see the red everywhere. It was all over him. His shirt was open, heart monitors stuck to his chest and more red. His pants were covered in a fine layer of dusty dirt, brought up so obviously against the black material. His left leg was also in a demobilising cast. His shoes were covered in the same light earthen colour. His hands were limp and had streaks of blood over them, casting obvious rivers as it had travelled over his skin and that dust. In the room with him were five doctors or nurses, Gillian figured a mixture of both and she watched as they moved around her husband and talked to each other in rapid shorthand, calling out the names of drugs and problems and worked on stabilising him as quickly as they could. Their sense of urgency was high and it made Gillian's heart pound.

At one point a woman near Cal's head shone a light into his eyes and Gillian didn't have to be leaning over him to know that there was no response; the body language of the woman was enough of an answer. Gillian felt her heart sink into her stomach to pulverise the shit out of it, like Lewis jumping recklessly on their bed in the mornings. Cal wasn't in there. There was a broken limp man in his place. Gillian gripped the edge of the window sill until her fingers cramped in protest and still she didn't let go. Of all the trouble he had gotten himself into over the years, this was the most serious, the most complicated, the most frightening. She recognised the slight edge of panic in the team of medical professionals as they worked on him because it mirrored her own. The woman with the light moved away slightly and glanced up to talk to a man across the room with a set of x-rays that he was sticking up over the light boxes. Gillian's gaze was on her husband. A nurse removed the large pressure bandage against his head to change it out. What she saw in that brief moment was an ugly gash along the side of his temple that was oozing black blood. And beneath that was a very white shard of his skull.

Gillian swallowed an overwhelming wave of nausea and started crying.

**PJ**

Gillian had exhausted herself pacing so now she sat numbly. She kept checking her watch and the clock on the wall (they were a minute and seventeen seconds apart, she had determined). The minutes were crawling by and she worried about getting Lewis from day care and whether Cal would be out of surgery in time. She didn't want to miss either of her boys or let either of them down or...

A doctor walked towards where she was waiting and she looked up hopefully but he just gave her a polite smile and kept going. Gillian fidgeted the wedding band on her finger until the digit hurt. Her eyes burned with fiery tears shed and unshed. She kept telling herself to not worry until she knew she had something to actually worry about. But the giant hole in his head and the pale pallor of his skin had stamped themselves behind her eyelids so that every time she took a deep breath and tried to relax and not panic she could see him lying there inert on the hospital gurney.

It made her feel nauseous. An hour ago she had actually worried she was going to lose her breakfast and rushed for the bathroom. But she just dry heaved a bit and felt worse and then sat on the lid of the toilet and cried some more. The waiting was driving her insane. Every damn time she had to go to a hospital and kill time for him. He said he wasn't going to do that to her anymore. And yet here she was, waiting once again because he had gotten himself struck across the head and was now having brain surgery. Different hospital. Different day. Different accident. Same stress. Same heartache. Same wait.

She took her phone out of her purse. There were no messages on it. She hadn't called Emily yet. But she might have to soon to ask her to pick Lewis up. There was no way she was going to miss talking to Cal's surgeon. No way.

"No way," she whispered to herself. There was no way this could be happening again. Everything had been so great for several years now. They had moved on from Lily's death. The last hospital visit she'd had to make for a personal reason was to give birth to Lewis. No, it had been for Lily's birth, but that was kind of different. There had been no medical emergencies in their family for years. It had been a welcome period of peace. And now this. This was the biggest threat to their lives since Mitchell. That was four years ago now. Four whole years. And now her husband could be dying again and she didn't know again and all she could do was wait again.

**PJ**

Gillian was fighting back another wave of tears when a doctor approached and asked if she was Mrs Lightman. Her head shot up so fast she was sure it pinched a nerve in the back of her neck. She swallowed down the tears of frustration threatening to suffocate her as she got up to shake the man's hand. His face was grim but open and she read him like a book. He said his name was Avery Rockwell and he was a neurologist. He was in charge of treating Cal's head injury and had been present during his surgery. "Let's go somewhere and talk," his voice was kind and he placed a hand gently on her shoulder to direct her to a private waiting room.

Gillian allowed herself to be led, her heart hammering wildly and the notion that she was going to be late forcing its way through everything. It made her feel nervous, the relocation, and she suspected it was a nice device to try and distract her from the inevitable bad news she was about to receive from Rockwell. She could see something in his demeanour that certainly wasn't good news. She suspected he was about to cautiously tell her to not get her hopes up. Which may as well be a death sentence. If they didn't have hope, they didn't have much of anything.

Avery closed the door to the small room and took a seat next to her. His eyes were perfectly brown. No hints of gold or green. He held her gaze steadily as he started to explain what he had been up to for the last... Gillian did some quick math. Five hours. She had been waiting for some word on her husband for five hours. The snippet she had received before they whisked him away for emergency surgery was that he was stable, he had a brain injury, but that he was stable. Was stable good? Seemed like a bit of false hope. Stable could really go either way. She knew that from treating her own patients.

"Cal suffered damage to his frontal and temporal lobes," Rockwell started.

Gillian nodded. She knew what that meant. Those were the two regions at the front of the brain and to the side that were part of the larger area of the cerebrum. The cerebrum controlled cognitive and sensory function, namely intelligence, memory, reasoning and emotions. She had even treated patients who had suffered from similar brain injuries and she knew the recovery was extensive and long and sometimes remained forever incomplete. Brain injuries did not have exact neat numbers on full recoveries. Cal could wake up from the surgery a different man. Fear struck her cold and she shivered. She realised the doctor was still talking...

"Relieved the pressure in his brain."

He was still talking about the surgery. She hadn't missed much.

"Unfortunately that is about as much as we can do for him at this stage."

Gillian nodded again and swallowed hard. "When will he be awake?" Meaning, when was the anaesthetic going to wear off? When could she talk to him? Only then would she trust that everything would be ok.

"We're keeping him sedated," Avery responded carefully. His brown eyes never left hers. He had no signs of guilt or shame. "We want to give him a chance to recover before allowing him to regain consciousness." Gillian surmised that the surgery had gone to plan (not that she had really been paying attention to that part of the conversation), but the doctor couldn't control what happened next and this was his best bet at trying to contain any surprises.

"So what does that mean?" Gillian asked next. "How long will you keep him sedated for?"

"Probably a few days, barring any complications."

"Complications?" Gillian asked warily.

"Brain swelling is Cal's number one concern right now. We've managed to relieve the pressure for now by drilling into the skull. But we will need to keep a close eye on it. If the pressure rises again, Cal will likely need more surgery if we can't control it. We will manage it very carefully with medications."

"Worst case scenario?" Gillian found herself morbidly asking, even as a part of her didn't want to know.

"Well," Avery's tone got even more careful. "If the pressure becomes too great there is a risk of brain herniation and that would result in death."

"So you're saying he's in a coma right now?"

A coma was a persistent state of unconsciousness that lasted for more than six hours. Even as Gillian asked she knew the answer. Cal had been unconscious for more than six hours. And those didn't count the time before the EMT's arrived, the minutes they had worked on freeing him, transferring him to an ambulance, bringing him to the hospital, the half hour in the emergency department before he had gone up for surgery.

"Once the sedation is ceased, what we will do are stimuli tests to see what level of responsiveness Cal has. We can determine then his state of wakefulness."

That was a yes. Cal was in a coma.

Doctor Rockwell reached out to touch Gillian's arm and gave it a slight squeeze. "It's not bad news," he tried.

"It's not great either," she responded glumly. Where had her tears gone? She thought she would be a blubbering mess by this stage of the conversation. She found a spot on the floor where the pattern of the carpet came together to make a dodecahedron. She had enough time to count the sides before Rockwell brought her out of it.

"Can I call someone to come and be with you?"

Gillian shook her head slightly. "It's ok."

"Let me call someone," he insisted gently. His tone gave no room for argument and Gillian handed over her phone, directing him to Emily's number. If anyone else should be here it would be Cal's daughter right? Gillian thought the doctor would hand the task off to someone else but he went through her phone directory and found the number and made the call himself. His tone was even more gentle as he explained who he was, why he was calling and asked if Emily would be able to come down to the hospital. He thanked her politely, like she was doing him a personal favour. After hanging up the phone and giving it back, Avery suggested they go to see Cal.

Gillian nodded her agreement but walked with some trepidation. Did she really want to see Cal right now? A mess of tubes and wounds and bleeding? The image of his skull showing through the wound in his head crept back behind her eyes and she shuddered again, trying to physically shake it off. She felt Rockwell's hand in the middle of her back as he guided her down hallways to the elevators. They went down a level to the ICU. He knew exactly which bed Cal was in. Gillian didn't miss the nod of acknowledgement he gave to a nurse on the desk; 'yes, this is the wife'.

Gillian swallowed down feelings she didn't have time or the inclination to deal with yet. She barely recognised half of them. The most prominent on her mind right now was nerves. Before they stepped into the room Rockwell stopped her again. "Before you go in, I want to explain what you're going to see," he told her, his hand on her arm again. For the first time since meeting him, Gillian realised his hands were warm and that it was strangely comforting. "Cal has thick bandages around his head that obscure his face a little and he's quite bruised up."

Gillian nodded, swallowed hard, her mind started to put the picture together. Rockwell explained Cal wasn't breathing on his own, so had a ventilator tube in his mouth. That was about the extent of what she would see. What Gillian read between the lines was that he would be hard to recognise as her husband, but was now a bruised and broken man lying small in a hospital bed starting a long road to recovery.

Not long ago they had been talking about family holidays and the future and now here she was faced with the possibility that Cal would never be the same. He might never wake up from a coma. What was she going to tell Lewis? That Dad was sleepy? Speaking of which, she still had to go and get him and soon. Or call Emily to get him on her way in. She was torn. Her husband or her son.


	2. Chapter 2

"No! Lewis, put that down, it's not for you," Gillian reprimanded lightly from the bench.

"But I hungry," Lewis told her.

"If you're hungry I'll make you some more," Gillian told him.

"Who's that for?" Lewis asked her lightly, pointing at the plate on the other side of the table that he had been trying to pilfer a moment ago.

"Dad."

"Daddy's sleepy."

Gillian checked her watch. "Dad shouldn't be sleeping. Did you go and wake him up?"

She turned to find Lewis nodding at her solemnly. He was standing on his chair at the table. "Sit down," she told him. 'Sit' was 'H' hands, with her right fingers curling slightly and coming down to clamp over the fingers of her left hand. "And you can eat Dad's. I'll make him some more." 'More' was grouping her fingers together in flattened 'O' hands and bringing them together in front of her so the fingertips touched.

"Yes!" Lewis enthused. He turned and leaned over the table to snag his father's toast. He dragged the plate awkwardly over the table to his setting and sat again on his knees so he could reach properly.

"Then when you finish go and get dressed," Gillian told him. When he didn't answer her she called to him. He turned his head sharply. "When you finish, get dressed," she signed 'clothes'; 'five' hands brushing down her chest twice in quick succession.

"Yes Mum!" Lewis crooned to the ceiling.

Gillian walked from the kitchen to their bedroom and through the open door to find Cal indeed, still in bed. She crawled over the mattress. "Hey," she talked to him as if he didn't have his eyes closed and his head in the pillow. He gave a grunt. Gillian shook the mattress with her body. Cal gave more of a complaint. "Time to get up sleepy head," she told him lightly. He muttered something. "Come on. You'll be late."

"Thought you said I could sleep in."

"I did and you have. I sent Lewis to wake you up."

"Huh," Cal responded.

"Let's go. Shower, shave, coffee."

"Mm?" Cal perked up.

"Lewis is eating your breakfast."

"That's nice of him."

"I'll make you some more," Gillian coaxed. She leaned down and kissed the side of his head. "Five minutes," she warned.

"Aw it's the Lewis tone of voice," Cal complained.

Gillian shifted a hand beneath the loose covers and pinched his backside. "Ow!" Cal cried with a jolt. He turned over quickly and Gillian rapidly moved out of the way. "That's sexual harassment that is."

"Only if we're at the office."

"Rememba pay back is a bitch," Cal replied.

"Well get dressed and you can sexually harass me at work," Gillian retorted as she rolled off the mattress again to stand. "And I won't make a case against you."

Cal's eyes came open. "Promise?"

Gillian gave him a smile over her shoulder as she started to walk away.

"Oi!" Cal called after her. He sat up. "Was that a promise?"

Lewis wasn't in the kitchen when Gillian returned and she could hear the TV in the living room. His dirty plate was still on the table. It was still early though. He had plenty of time to get dressed. She would go follow up with him later. She reached into the cupboard for a mug. She flinched as she felt a strong warm arm wrap around her waist and stomach. The scratch of his goatee in the side of her neck and his lips against the skin there made her shiver. She attempted to turn in his embrace but he wouldn't let her. He nuzzled into her neck. "It's only seven o'clock," he informed her. "I could have slept anotha fifteen minutes."

"Aw and miss having breakfast with me?"

"Where's the munchkin?"

"Watching TV."

"Has he eaten?"

"Yes." She didn't bother pointing out that she had already told him that. He was probably still half asleep even now.

"Hmm," Cal hummed and rocked them side to side gently while he rested his head on her shoulder. "We could have snuggled in bed."

"Do you not remember said munchkin jumping up and down on the bed until one of us got up this morning?"

"Must have slept through that," Cal mumbled. "Course you could always come back to bed now."

"I have to get Lewis ready for day care and I have to get ready for work," Gillian told him softly, coaxingly. "And so do you."

"There is that," Cal sighed. He shifted is head and kissed the side of her neck again. "All right. What's for breakfast?"

"Toast."

"Sounds delightful. Have you had coffee?"

"Yes I have a cup somewhere."

"How you can lose your coffee cup, I don't know," Cal muttered as he poured himself one, taking the mug from Gillian that she had been retrieving when he came in.

"I put it down somewhere," Gillian started to explain for what felt like the hundredth time.

"And then move around. I know," Cal finished. He turned to face her as he leaned against the bench and took his first taste black. Gillian glanced over at him from where she was making lunches and took in his dishevelled hair and sleepy blue eyes. Shit he looked sexy like that. Her stomach flipped lightly. Cal gave her a sudden grin. "I saw that."

Gillian gave a slight smile and turned back to her task. The toaster jumped a second later and Cal reached for the toasted bread, bringing the slices to the board where Gillian was working on sandwiches. She buttered them for him while he got milk from the fridge and then spread Marmite in the correct thickness that Cal liked. He picked them back up on his return to his perch against the bench. "So," he started talking as he munched on the crispy bread. "Today."

"Yes?"

"Have to decide what we're gonna do with the proceeds from the book."

"The love book part two?"

"Aw I love that you give my books little nicknames," Cal gave her a cutesy tone of voice.

"I can't remember the actual titles," Gillian muttered.

"I heard that."

"Ok, proceeds, what do you want to do with them? Invest them? Put them back into the Lightman Group?" She glanced at him over her shoulder. "Spend them?"

"Do I have to think about it now? I just woke up," he gave her a bewildered expression.

"That means you haven't thought about it but the fact that your agent has started mentioning royalties cheques means you suddenly have to make a decision," Gillian looked over at him again in time to catch him narrowing his eyes at her.

"You know, I was intendin' for them to go into an account for Lily, for college or somethin', you know?"

Gillian nodded and focussed on wrapping Lewis's Marmite sandwich in plastic wrap. They hadn't even got as far as setting up a bank account for her. Lewis already had his college fund started.

"But I guess that's redundant now," Cal finished quietly.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed, feeling the weirdness that was her death spread through her chest. She put the sandwich into Lewis's lunch box. She put an apple in there too from the bowl on the bench. She turned to face her husband for a moment, standing in their kitchen in nothing but his underwear. It wasn't quite summer yet and chilly and how he could stand there mostly nude and not freeze she didn't know. As soon as she got up she started putting clothes on, socks, a sweatshirt, fluffy slippers; without his body warmth nearby she often felt cold. "It's your money so you decide," she announced.

"Our money," Cal corrected around another mouthful of bread. "We could spend it togetha as a family. Save it up and go on holiday."

Gillian mused over that idea. "We haven't had a family holiday."

"No we haven't," Cal agreed washing down the last of his breakfast with another mouthful of coffee. He rinsed his cup in the sink and then crossed to give her a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for breakfast."

"You're welcome," she responded absently.

**PJ**

Gillian set her purse on the passenger seat and looked back at her son in his car seat. "Have you got your seat belt on?" She asked him while giving him a visual check to make sure he did.

He gave her a firm nod. "Yes. Belt." He fingered it. "Bag," he pointed to the floor where it rested. "Let's go!" He finished with a bright smile, almost a grin: his father's smirk.

Gillian smiled to herself as she faced forwards again and reached for her own restraint.

"Make-a click," Lewis instructed from the back of the car.

"Yes," Gillian agreed making sure the catch clicked into the clasp. "Make it click." She turned over the engine and pushed the button for the garage door. Putting the car in drive, she started to ease down the driveway. The CD started the next track so she turned it up a little for Lewis in the back. He started to sing along though he wasn't very good with the words. It was hard to tell if that was a developmental thing or whether he had a hard time hearing the words in general. So difficult to tell. Dr Rosario, Lewis's audiologist, and Stephanie, his speech therapist, probably got sick of her calling.

Gillian took him to the doctor's first and when they pulled up she could see Lewis looking around all confused about where they were. "We're going to see the doctor remember?" She leaned back to push the button to release his seat restraint and Lewis lifted it over his head. He slid down to the floor of the car and waited for Gillian to move around and open the door for him.

"Bag?" He asked her.

"No leave your bag here," she told him, signing 'here': her hands flat, palms facing upwards in front of her body, moving them in small circles away from her and back again. She held the door for him while he jumped out onto the sealed surface of the car park. "Stay here with me!" She called in case he decided running across the tarmac was going to be a good idea. Lewis wandered away just a few feet while waiting for his mother to lock the car again. She held out her hand to him and he approached to take it. He skipped along as they walked so he jerked Gillian's arm. In the waiting room Lewis eyed up the strange children from the edges of the play pen. It had taken him a long time to get used to the children at day care and he was fine with them now, he had even made friends. But this was different. Gillian watched him from her chair, gossip magazine open in her hands; it didn't hold her attention at all, her son did. Lewis looked as though he was glaring at the children playing with the blocks, a little blonde boy probably around one, and two girls, four and two Gillian guessed. She pulled her phone from her bag and snapped a picture. She sent it to Cal and a second later his reply came through: **LOOKS JUST LIKE U. CALCULATIN.**

Gillian gave herself a rueful smile: **PUT UR GLASSES ON ND LOOK AGAIN. ITS U. DECIDIN HOW 2 DESTROY THE COMPETITION.**

Lewis crouched at the edge of the group and snagged himself a few wooden blocks. Then he took the ones from in front of the one year old. He shifted in closer while Gillian watched. The one year old dropped the block in his hand and Lewis snapped it up immediately. Gillian took another picture and sent that to Cal as well: **NO COMMON DECENCY OR RESPECT 4 SOCIAL RULES. DEFINITELY U.**

Gillian got up and told Lewis he should be sharing. She gave the block back to the one year old who gave her a brilliant smile, showing off just two teeth in the bottom gum. "Hey sweetie," Gillian talked to the little boy who gave her a gurgling kind of noise. He took the block from her with another smile. She smiled back.

"Mum."

"Yes Lewis," Gillian turned to him.

"Toilet," he waved a 'T' hand in her face.

"Ok, good boy," she straightened up and looked around. She found the sign and directed Lewis over to it. He made her wait outside, because he was a big boy now. Her phone chimed: **HILARIOUS. UR SON. CANT THINK OF APPROPRIATE SEGWAY BUT AM HORNY. INSERT SEXUAL INUENDO JOKE HERE SO WHEN I GET HOME L8R U'LL B READY 2 GO : )**

Gillian shook her head and started to reply when Lewis opened the door again, struggling with the weight of it. Gillian held it for him while asking if he had washed his hands. He nodded solemnly. "You did not. Go and wash them," she told him. "And flush the toilet," she added realising she hadn't heard that either. She watched Lewis reach up to the cistern and push the button and then study the water as it disappeared down the drain. The things he found fascinating surprised her. Actually when she thought about it logically, they weren't so shocking. They followed a pattern: building blocks, mechanics, engineering. He reached for the sink next, turning the tap on and holding his hands under the stream of water. Gillian sent Cal a quick message back: **ONLY COS U ASKED SO NICELY**

"Ok let's go," Gillian called to Lewis because she could hear the nurse.

"Smells funny," Lewis informed her, drying his hands on the front of his shirt.

Gillian thought about objecting and then decided she couldn't be bothered. At least what he was wiping on his shirt was clean water. "It's different soap to what we have at home," she answered him. They were taken to an exam room where Lewis's doctor was waiting for him.

"Hi," she greeted pleasantly. "Come and sit up here for me Lewis," she indicated the low exam table. Lewis, for a second, looked like he had walked into a trap. Then he climbed up the brightly painted wooden stairs to oblige her. "How are you?" She asked him.

"Good," he nodded.

Gillian heard her phone chime and ignored it. "How's his cold?" Doctor Rickman asked her.

"Fine," Gillian responded. "He's stopped coughing."

Lewis faked a cough. "Narty cough," he informed her seriously.

"Ok I'm going to check your blood pressure," Rickman told Lewis, producing a small cuff and wrapping it around his arm without waiting for him to respond. He looked bewildered as she pumped air into the device and then gave a wince when it started to cut into his flesh. He tried to move away. In the meantime, Doctor Rickman asked Gillian and Lewis various questions. How he was getting over the cold that had procured a visit just a fortnight ago? How he was coping with toilet training? How he was doing at speech therapy, day care? Was he sleeping better now or was he still worried by the dark? The doctor got him to talk about his friends, a test Gillian knew would display his language skills and his mental development. She already did those kinds of tests on him sometimes to double check; and his speech was under so much scrutiny every new word or grammatically correct sentence was just about worshipped.

Lewis showed her the scrape on his knee. "Yesty-day," he told her seriously as if he were talking about the financial climate.

"And how did you do that?" The doctor asked him making notes in his file. She had weighed him and measured how tall he was getting (35 inches, 89cms); which was a little below average for his age. She had checked his eyes and sight.

"Um," Lewis thought for a moment then looked at his mother.

"Running," Gillian supplied.

"Runny," Lewis mimicked.

"Do you know how old you're going to be next month Lewis?" The doctor asked him.

"Four!" Lewis replied enthusiastically his hand shooting in the air into indicate the number. "A big boy."

"Yes a very big boy," the doctor closed his file and stepped away to a tray. "And you'll be off to kindergarten next year when you turn five."

Lewis picked at his scab. Gillian told him to leave it alone.

"So I'm going to give you some medicines to make sure you don't get sick when you start ok?" She approached with a set of needles and Lewis eyed them up interested for a moment. Gillian took his wrist, feeling nervous for him. He didn't know what was about to hit him. He might not remember last year's jabs but he was going to remember these for awhile. She felt like telling the doctor to stick it, excuse the pun, but rationalised to herself again that this was the best thing for Lewis. The doctor prepared to give Lewis his first shot.

"What's that?" He asked her, still watching.

"Medicine," the doctor explained again.

"Lewis look at me," Gillian told him and signed 'look' by bringing her fingers to her eyes in a very direct gesture. She saw the needle move out of the corner of her eye but made sure she kept her gaze on her son. Those were Cal's eyes. That pale shade of blue that sometimes looked green. He even had the same pattern of brown flecks. He wiggled his eyebrows at her cutely, because she was staring and he was waiting for her to get to the point. She gave him a slight smile in response. She felt terrible for leading him into a false sense of security.

And then Lewis flinched and tried to pull his arm away and when neither the doctor nor his mother relented he burst into tears. "Ow!" He cried loudly.

Gillian's hand automatically reached up to caress his face. "Aw sweetie I'm sorry," she tried to soothe.

The doctor reached for another needle. "Just one more."

"No!" Lewis screeched and fell on to his side, his other hand reaching to rub his arm. He fought his way out of his mother's embrace, tears falling from his eyes. "Hurts!" In fact, he tried kicking her and she fought down a surge of anger. They didn't tolerate violence, not even when he was upset.

"Don't kick me," she told him firmly, moving her hand to guard his legs. She pulled him to sit up. "It's just one more," she told him as she put her arm around him, hugging him against her body like Cal did, to trap his arm. The doctor took the arm she had already stuck with a needle and jabbed the other one in. "Stay still!" Gillian told him while the plunger was depressed and he screeched louder and tried to wriggle free. She thought maybe she should have warned him. But he would have flat out refused to cooperate that way. Gillian pulled his little body tighter against her in a proper embrace this time and he wailed into her shoulder for a moment. Gillian gave his back a rub and then pulled him away. "You're all right," she told him. "It's over now. Finished." She used one hand to make the sign: starting with her palm facing in front of her, her fingers spread loosely and pointing upwards, she gave her wrist a twist so the palm ended up facing away from her. She did it again so Lewis could see clearly.

"Here Lewis," Doctor Rickman offered him a lollipop. "For being such a brave boy."

Lewis eyed her warily and then reached out his hand to take it; his left hand, despite that being the arm that had been subject to the assault. "Say thank you," Gillian prompted.

Lewis signed the response instead of talking. It was good enough, Gillian supposed, except that he was going to have to learn that not everyone understood that. He would have to talk, even when he didn't want to. Gillian wasn't going to be there to act as his interpreter all the time. Probably something to worry about when he went to school. Or maybe not at all. Maybe the world should just learn to accept him. "Shall we go now?" Gillian asked him.

Lewis nodded enthusiastically. The tears had dried up and he was working his way into the wrapper. "Would you like me to help you?" She made the sign for 'help': her right fist resting on top of her left palm, she moved it from near her body in a slight arch towards his, indicating who was going to help whom.

"Eah," Lewis responded and moved his lollipop away from her while also turning his head. She had no idea what 'eah' was meant to be but she knew a 'no' when she saw one.

"Ok," she suppressed a sigh. "Let's go then," she gathered her purse together and reached for his hand but he also ignored that and jumped down the stairs on his own and wandered towards the door, still trying to get into his candy. Gillian thanked the doctor, who gave her a smile on her way out, paid at the desk and guided Lewis to the car, refusing to let him shove her away again as they moved between parked cars. She let him into their vehicle and closed the door behind him. She moved around to the driver's side and finally pulled her phone from within her purse to see what the message had been: **GR8! LITTLE XCITED. CULD U MEET ME NOW 4 A QUICK SHAG?**

And there was another she clearly had not heard: **W8N**

And another: **U NO HOW 2 TEASE **

As she was typing out a response her phone chimed again. Figuring it was him, she cancelled her message to read the new one. **NEED U NOW. HOW LONG U GONNA B?**

She called him and checked to see what Lewis was doing. He was biting the wrapper. "Do you want some help Lewis?"

"Argh!" He retorted.

"Ok get in your seat, we're leaving soon." She heard her call get picked up. "Couldn't wait an hour huh?"

"Neva with you but that's not what I need you for."

"Oh?" Gillian's voice rose slightly in question.

"Took care of that myself. I need you for a work related problem."

"Ok, well Lewis's appointment is over so I'll come in after I drop him off."

"Actually, come here first, then drop him off."

"Ok," Gillian agreed and Cal hung up on her before she could ask for details.


	3. Chapter 3

The door was open so Gillian could see him before she was even in the room. He was naked aside from a sheet draped over his right leg and groin area. There was a large gauze bandage taped to his left thigh where another surgeon had attached the rod and plate to hold his femur and hip bones in place to heal the intertrochanteric hip fracture properly. Like Doctor Rockwell had described, there were a few mottled bruises over his torso and arms but it was the sight of his head that had Gillian's stomach churning. A huge white pressure bandage was attached to the left side of his head, obscuring part of his face in the process. His head was turned to the side slightly so the bandage was the dominant feature. As Gillian tentatively moved around the bed she could see his eyes were bruised black and there were little cuts along his nose and cheek. The ventilator tube obscured the rest of him. He was almost unrecognisable. The tattoos on his right arm and the one in the middle of his chest assured her. But then that promise also made her want to break down in tears that had suddenly abandoned her.

Then there was everything else. The heart monitors, the oxygen saturation monitors, the IV lines with a million bags hanging off the other end, drip feeding medications and fluids into Cal's arm. The neck brace was gone now his doctor's had determined there was no damage to his spinal cord. She was even able to note the catheter snaking out from beneath the sheet to drip into a bag beside the bed. She chose to stand on his good side. The side that had clearly been protect from most of the damage. She absently took his hand. His hands were warm. So was the room. It should be. He was lying there naked.

Gillian felt the need to cry again but the tears just would not come. Maybe that was because she was completely overwhelmed right now and there were other people in the room. Nurses introduced themselves as being part of Cal's care team but faces blurred with names and she couldn't recall them even a minute after hearing them. Doctor Rockwell gave her a brief rundown of what the medications were but complicated medicalese blended into the background; she heard blood pressure, saline, seizures, hyperventilation. Whatever the complex chemicals were, they were there to keep the pressure out of Cal's brain to give it a chance to heal.

**PJ**

Gillian sat with Cal for a long time, the sounds in the room loud and obnoxious; his heart monitor, the ventilator, the buzz of voices just beyond the door. This didn't feel like it was happening to her. To him. To them. She could barely see his face and her eyes kept tracing over the tattoos of his skin; it was definitely him. But it just seemed wrong or, she figured, she had gone into shock. She failed to remember about Lewis and Emily and it wasn't until the young woman showed up suddenly that she recalled. She had forgotten about her son! She called the day care, explained what had happened, she was going to send someone to get him, they had been trying to call her, she was sorry, was he all right?

Emily stood in the doorway shocked as she stared at her father. Gillian got up and guided her into the room and she suddenly understood what it was like for Cal every time he shoved aside his own grief and problems to be strong for someone else. He had always let her fall apart first before everything caught up with him and now Gillian was doing it on his behalf. She pushed Emily into the seat she had just vacated and crouched down beside her, quietly explaining what had happened, what Cal's injuries were, what the expected prognosis was and carefully leaving out the anguish, anxiety and anticipation.

"God he looks awful," Emily muttered around tears.

Gillian didn't have the heart to agree. She excused herself to make phone calls. As she stood at the payphone the list got longer; Kate to ask if she would pick Lewis up, the day care again to let them know who was on their way, then work, then their health insurance... She spent over an hour and a half on the phone but at least she felt better for doing something. When she returned Emily was sitting in the same position she had left her in. Gillian ducked out again. One more phone call. To Ajay. He said he would leave as soon as he could and come down to the hospital.

Gillian went back to Cal's room. Emily was crying now. Gillian crossed to comfort her and wondered who was going to comfort _her_ later. She leaned on Cal. And Cal was here. She would feel as if she were burdening anyone else and yet it never felt like she burdened Cal. He always made sure she never felt like she was burdening him. Tears pricked at her eyes but still refused to form. Gillian wondered if she was all cried out already. Surely that wasn't possible. The sounds of Emily sobbing really broke her heart though. She had known Cal longer, Gillian realised. Stupid to think of that right now but she didn't seem to be able to engage her brain in any meaningful way. She had to conclude she was in shock. Functioning shock, but still, it must be shock because she was never this logical in an emergency. She panicked and cried. Cal was the solid rock. Either that, or she really was compensating for him. She tried to shove the thoughts aside. She wasn't being in the moment but it was all so overwhelming all she could think about was who she was going to lean on if Cal wasn't there for her.

**PJ**

Eventually Ajay arrived. He looked concerned and a little scared; Gillian noted it so distinctly on his face. When he saw Cal he looked disgusted and she supposed that was an appropriate response; he did look a mess right now after all. Ajay quietly suggested taking Emily home and Gillian agreed because she had been there for an hour now and there were no changes with either of them. Cal was still in a medically induced coma and Emily was still sitting in shock and Gillian was still at a loss as to what she should do.

"Come on," Ajay crossed, gave Cal a glance, and took her arm. He gently pulled her to her feet.

"No," Emily protested feebly. "I want to stay."  
>"Let's go home," Ajay coaxed pulling her to the door. "We can get something to eat." He gave Gillian a worried expression as he passed by where she was waiting in the doorway.<p>

"I'll call you tomorrow," she told him softly, not even sure she had uttered the words until he nodded grimly. He glanced back at Cal before dragging Emily away. Gillian breathed relief. She went to sit by Cal again. Now that she didn't have to worry about Emily she felt less restless. She didn't have to pretend for Cal. She never had. She took his hand again, carefully, afraid that she might disturb one of the many devices keeping him alive and stable right now. The thought made her feel sick. What she wanted was to be able to call her husband to come and get her and take her home too. To wrap her up in his arms and stand with her in the shower while she washed her worries down the drain. How often had Cal done that for her? Too many times to think.

'_Oh shit Lewis_!' She got up again and went to where she had left her purse and found her phone. She had put it on silent even though she should have really turned it off altogether. There were two missed calls. She rang Kate back, again ignoring the cell phone ban. She crossed to the window and looked down on the city. She was sure it had been sunny that morning and yet now, the sky was grey.

"Hey I've been trying to call you," Kate answered.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"No it's ok," she interrupted. "I just wanted to tell you that we've got Lewis with us and he's been fed."

Gillian looked at her watch. Hours and hours had gone by, not just hours! She had lost track of time more than she realised.

"He can stay with us tonight and we'll drop him off at day care tomorrow."

"Oh," Gillian responded numbly.

"You take all the time you need," Kate added kindly. "How is Cal doing?"

"He's," Gillian turned towards the bed. Cal had not moved, blinked or even breathed on his own. The nurses and doctors came to check on him periodically but nothing had changed. "The same," she finished.

"Do you want to stay over tonight? We can make room."

"No that's ok."

"I'll come up and sit with you for a bit."

"No really," Gillian insisted softly. "I'll probably go home soon anyway." She stopped herself before she said she would eat and then go to bed. She knew now she wasn't going to do either of those things. In fact, she planned on staying here until she was escorted from the building. What else was she going to do? Realistically. What did they expect her to do? "Thank you for taking Lewis."

"Of course. If there's anything else me or Matthew can do you let us know. We can keep Lewis for a few days."

"Thanks but I'll pick him up tomorrow," Gillian toned dully. Life went on right? Isn't that what she and Cal had decided? That they would go on for their son, no matter what happened to the other. Lewis would be confused about what was happening. He had never spent twenty-four hours away from either parent. He hadn't had a sleep over at someone else's house before. If he went to sleep at his Aunt and Uncle's place, Cal or Gillian would still pick him up and bring him home so he would wake-up in his own bed. Kate offered to ring her mother but Gillian insisted she would do that herself as well. Eventually Kate said she would go. Gillian hung up her phone and went back to sit with Cal.

A moment later she was shaken awake. "Mrs Lightman?"

Gillian straightened up, confused, startled. She had fallen asleep, her hand in her husband's, her head resting on the mattress. "You can't stay here all night," the female voice gently told her. "Go home."

"But," she croaked. She noticed the window was black now and she could see the mirror image of the room reflected there.

"We'll call you if there is any change. But there won't be."

"How?" Gillian started gazing up into the steel grey eyes of the nurse. She couldn't remember her name and felt terrible for it. Had she even met her earlier?

"He's sedated and stable. He'll be here in the morning for you. Go home. Get some decent sleep and come back refreshed."

Gillian looked back to her husband's obscured face.

"Go on," the nurse urged. "Doctor Rockwell will want to talk to you in the morning. Get some sleep. Clear your head. We will call if anything changes."

Gillian suspected she made this gentle but firm plea often, that was why she was so convincing at it. Gillian stood stiffly and gathered her purse. She thought about leaning in to give Cal a kiss goodbye but where was she going to land it? She wanted to tell him she would be back first thing but it seemed far too strange to talk to his inert form while there was someone else in the room. She let the nurse guide her to the door and then absently kept on walking. She got downstairs and found it was raining. In the car she finally saw the time. It was midnight. She started to head home but changed her mind. She didn't want to go home to the empty house. She knocked on her brother's door and he opened it in pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, his hair askew, his eyes squinty; she had clearly woken him up.

"Hey," he greeted her and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so sorry about Cal."

"Yeah," Gillian tried to ignore him. She didn't want to hear that. "I'm going to take Lewis home."

"It's late Gill, why not just leave him here?"

Gillian pushed past him and headed upstairs to Max's room. Matthew didn't stop her and she was starting to feel like she had a purpose again. Take care of Lewis. That's what Cal would want. She was determined now. Even if Matthew tried to stop her he wouldn't have got far. She scooped Lewis into her arms, harder to do now he was getting bigger, but not within the realm of impossible yet; he was a little guy after all. Like his father.

Kate was standing with Matthew when she emerged. She was wrapping a bathrobe around her night clothes. "Gillian, why don't you stay tonight?" She asked sleepily.

"I'd rather be at home," Gillian responded. She started to head down the stairs. Lewis stirred in her arms. "It's ok baby. Go back to sleep. I'm just taking you home," she whispered to him, knowing he wouldn't hear the words but her reassuring tone; he would in the very least recognise her voice.

Kate and Matthew followed her downstairs, Kate carrying Lewis's day care bag. "His hearing aides are in there," she sounded sleepy.

"Thanks," Gillian told her and headed out the door to her car parked in the driveway. Matthew brought Lewis's bag out and put it on the passenger seat in the front while Gillian clipped Lewis into the back. He was more alert now, sitting up and looking around and wondering what was going on. Gillian hushed him and pushed him gently back in to his seat. "We're going home now."

She turned to Matthew who stood awkwardly. "Look if there's anything we can do."

"Yeah I know and thanks but I just, I need to take my son and go home." She hoped he would understand and probably through not wanting to get involved too much, he let her. Matthew was an offerer of support, but when it came down to it, he didn't like to get into the tough times of other people. It had been the same way through every disaster Gillian had faced in her life. Their father, Sophie, Alec, Cal, Mitchell, more Cal stuff... this... so much Cal stuff...

Gillian pulled into her garage and sat still for a moment. Everything was so very quiet. Compared to the steady hum and beep of Cal's hospital room it seemed strange already. Gillian turned her head to check on Lewis. He had gone back to sleep. She still had no idea what to tell him. What was she going to do with him tomorrow? Drop him off to day care like nothing had happened? Take him up to the hospital? And let him see his father like that?

Gillian swallowed a wave of fatigue and nausea. It wasn't time to stop yet. She closed her car door as quietly as she could and went around to pick Lewis up out of his seat. He woke again and gave a little whimper. He looked around with bleary blue eyes. Cal's eyes.

"We're home now," Gillian told Lewis and lifted him from his seat. He wrapped his arms and legs around her and rested his head over the back of her shoulder. She put him down on his bed, pushed his shoes off, and pulled the blanket out from beneath him to cover him with it. He turned into his pillow, eyes already closed. Gillian snuck out again and pulled the door closed. She went back to her car to get his bag and her purse and suddenly realised Cal's car was gone. Of course it would be but... she hadn't prepared herself for the obvious absence of it. Inside, the house seemed too quiet and devoid of his presence. She was sure she was imagining it but the house seemed emptier, hollow, like she felt on the inside. She crawled into bed fully dressed as well and pulled Cal's pillow closer. She curled up around it.

"Happy anniversary Cal," she whispered, their actual plans for the afternoon finally filtering their way to the front of her mind now that she was slowing down. She let his pillow absorb her tears as she cried herself to sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Cal strode into his office to find Reynolds there with another FBI agent. "That time of year again is it?" He asked making his way towards his desk.

"I need your help on a case."

"Oh and here I thought it was cos you missed me," Cal retorted snidely. He eyed up the other agent who remained silent and still. "Although you lasted eight months between visits this time."

"This is Navy Captain Harmon Rydell," Reynolds made a quick introduction. Cal leaned over his desk to shake the Captain's hand, who had stepped forward to offer it. He was way off base with thinking this man was FBI, but now that he looked he could see the military cut and bearings of a senior officer; shrewd eyes.

"Rogue flyboy then?" Cal asked him, watching his face. The Captain was stoic but there was still a quiver of a muscle around his mouth. Cal guessed special operations. Probably a SEAL. "I do like a challenge," Cal responded. "Who did what then?" He turned to Reynolds. "And what are the FBI doin' gettin' involved?"

"It's a matter of national security," the agent answered him.

"It always is," Cal responded dryly.

Reynolds handed him a blue folder and gave him a verbal run down of the case while Cal flicked through it. "When can I talk to him then?" Cal raised his head to firstly glance at the naval man before looking at the federal man.

"He's currently on manoeuvres down at Norfolk. He'll be made available to you by the end of the day."

"Oh does that mean you're gonna call me at midnight and drag me out of bed so I can disturb my wife and possibly my kid to do you a fave-a?" Cal asked lightly.

Reynolds shot him a glare and Cal wondered why the FBI agent was kissing up to the United States Navy. "What are you doin' on this case anyway?" Cal asked him pointedly. "Seems like a case for JAG or NCIS if you ask me."

"The navy has asked me to liaise between your office and their own investigators."

Cal didn't react to that news despite knowing what it meant. It meant the navy wanted Cal's help but didn't want to have to deal with all his usual bullshit. And seeing as Reynolds was the only man to successfully escape working with Cal without either of them despising each other and their relationship being shot to hell... well it did make sense that he was constantly sent back to 'deal' with him. At least Cal also knew what he was dealing with when it came to Reynolds; he knew there was trust and support for the way he operated.

"Let's set up a meetin' for tomorrow mornin' then," Cal suggested. He handed the file back to Reynolds. "I'll happily have a wee chat with him then."

"Thank you for your time Doctor Lightman," Rydell stepped forward to shake his hand again and Cal gave a nod. He wondered why the man was not in uniform. Reynolds gave Cal an expression that could only be described as 'here we go' before he turned to walk out of his office again.

**PJ**

"What's the big emergency?" Gillian entered the lab with Lewis on her hip. He was still fidgeting with that lollipop and the constant rustling of plastic was getting on her nerves. He refused to let her help him with it too. It was hard to tell if that was Cal's stubbornness or hers showing or worse: both of theirs combined. She put Lewis down. He started to whine immediately and grabbed at her hip to be picked up again.

"Hi Lewis!" Loker greeted him with a waved 'hello' from his desk. Lewis waved back but didn't verbally respond. He put the lollipop back in his teeth. "You need some help buddy?" Loker asked him, speaking slowly and in a high pitched tone of voice like adults often did around children.

"I do it," Lewis told him.

"Where's Cal?" Gillian asked Reynolds.

"I went to the loo, is that all right?" Cal asked striding back into the room. He crossed to her immediately and kissed her lips briefly. "How'd it go? Was it all right?"

Reynolds closed his mouth and turned back to the computer where Loker was working.

"Fine. He's fine. Didn't enjoy the needles too much," Gillian answered, a little flair of guilt making her feel uncomfortable.

Around them everyone pretended to be busy while they waited. Cal was very tunnel visioned when it came to his family. Lewis reached his lollipop up to his father. "You need some help?" Cal asked, making the sign while he spoke. Lewis nodded. "Use your words," Cal told him, signing 'use' (making a 'U' right hand, starting with the base of it over his left hand, making two small circles) and 'word' (making a 'G' with his right hand and pressing it against his extended left index finger) before taking the lolly from his son with his other hand.

"Yes Dad," Lewis signed the informal 'father': touching the thumb of his dominant open hand against his forehead.

"Good boy," Cal told him while he pried the soggy plastic wrapper away and caught Gillian crossing her arms over her chest out of the corner of his eye. He gave it back to Lewis and he grabbed it but Cal didn't relinquish. "What do you say?"

"Fank ooo," Lewis told him and Cal let the prize go. Lewis immediately stuck it in his mouth and then raised his arms to his father. "Lift me."

"A quick cuddle all right?" Cal told him dipping slightly to lift him to his hip. "Cos Daddy's workin'. And Mummy's mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," Gillian told him immediately in a low voice, hoping the entire room hadn't heard her.

"What's that then?" Cal waved a finger at her vaguely. Gillian uncrossed her arms.

"Daddy I got a sore," Lewis informed him.

"I know. Want me to kiss it betta?"

Lewis nodded solemnly. "Which arm is it?" Cal asked him gently. Lewis proffered his left. Cal laid a series of kisses on his upper arm. "Betta?" Cal asked him. Lewis nodded. "All right. Can you do some nice drawin's in Mum's office for me for a little while?" He put him down. Lewis nodded again as he wandered off. "Good boy," Cal told him. He looked up at his wife. "You all right?"

"We can talk later," she told him. "What did you need help with?"

"My SEAL."

"Oh?"

"Loke-a got his hands on some recorded messages and I need my voice expert to make a quick analysis for me," he gave her a smile. And suddenly everyone around them wasn't just listening in on their conversation anymore but were back to work.

"All right then let's hear it," she responded feeling like she might be being played just a little bit. Cal wanted to work with her more. He wanted her out of her office and back in the field. Not always easy when she was a mother sixty percent of her day and they didn't have in-house day care services, and she was also the accounts manager/HR manager/PR manager thirty percent of her day and they didn't have anyone else to do it.

Loker tapped keys on the computer consol and the first clip rolled through. There wasn't anything Gillian felt was substantial but it was clear as the messages went through that the man voicing them was getting more and more agitated. "Wait, stop," Gillian called. "Did you hear that?" Cal turned to her. "That little inflection." Loker played the last few seconds back again. She gave Cal raised eyebrows.

"What does the inflection mean?" Reynolds cut in.

"It means he felt a wee bit of emotion about what he was talkin' about," Cal answered him, his gaze still on Gillian, in silent question. She gave a nod. She was sure she heard something, even while Loker was playing around with the sound bites to show the frequency measurements to try and pick it up.

"I'd like to have that chat with him," Cal told Reynolds.

"Today?"

"Soona ratha than late-a would be betta."

Reynolds pulled his phone as he started to leave the room. "I'll try to set it up."

**PJ**

"All right luv?" Cal greeted his wife as she strode across his office floor. She gave him a smile in greeting and then a little frown as she realised he was on his way out. "They found the SEAL so I'm off to have a chat."

"Ok well I was on my way to get Lewis."

"I'll see you at home then," Cal told her as he came around his desk, tucking his phone into his trouser pockets.

"Sure," Gillian agreed turning and walking with him. "And you haven't forgotten that Emily and Ajay are coming over for dinner have you?"

"Not at all," Cal responded. "But apologise for me if I'm late." Her hand on his wrist stopped him just short of his office door.

"Do you plan on being late?"

"Well you know me darlin', punctual to a T. But just in case," he wiggled his eyebrows at her and she gave a nod. No matter what he said, not matter what he did, no matter how much time went by, she always worried when he went off to 'have a chat' with someone who was potentially dangerous. He didn't try to assuage her anymore and she didn't have to tell him to be careful. He knew. She knew.

"See you at home then."

"You will," Cal agreed and leaned in to give her a quick kiss. He was a big fan of kissing her in public but it made Gillian a little uncomfortable. Particularly if they were at work. She didn't mind a quick kiss, or a hug but anything blatant often had her pushing Cal away. So to stop either of them getting hurt over it, Cal tried to keep his hands and lips to himself. He was quite willing to make those sacrifices. Why sweat the small stuff? It certainly wasn't something worth causing tension over.

The Navy SEAL was Commander Derek Poleman. What had first brought him to the attention of NCIS were several robberies in his neighbourhood. Not typical neighbourhood robberies though. The things that went missing were garden supplies, electrics and a few other random items. A robbery was also staged at his home. That was over six months ago. It had taken the NCIS team that long to put the proverbial two and two together. But they had and now it was a delicate situation. They needed Cal to talk to the Commander without giving the game away. They needed to know if he really was building a bomb and where it was going to be planted.

Of course, Cal hadn't told Gillian there was a bomb. Full disclosure would be made after the fact. If she knew he was going to put his life at risk she would refuse to let him go and that led to nasty fights. Things had changed a lot since Lily died, or maybe that had happened before she died. Gillian worried about him more. He could see it even if she didn't always say it. He could see that she tried not to. But it was there, between them.

Cal gave her another quick kiss and told her he would be home later. Then he strode out of his office and down to the street where Reynolds was waiting for him in one of those black SUV wank-fests the FBI loved so much. "Here," he handed Cal a mic. Cal peeled back the adhesive tab and stuck it just under his shirt, just over his heart.

"Testin' one two three," Cal spoke normally to the windshield.

"You're good," Reynolds told him after a moment of listening to his earpiece. A white van followed along behind them, several lengths back. "So you know, straight in, ask your questions and get out. We'll be right behind you."

"Yeah yeah," Cal answered in a bored tone. He had been briefed that afternoon. He knew what he was doing. He had done a million of these types of questionings. Maybe not with a guy who could kill him with his bare hands about ten different ways... usually the bad guy knew just two ways...

They pulled up at a warehouse. Cal got out quickly and Reynolds drove off. There was no sign of the white van. Cal waited until everything seemed quiet and then walked over to the man–sized door (as opposed to the giant roller door that was big enough to let in a boeing jet) and gave it a thump. A minute later it was answered by a gruff voice.

"I'm Jackie's contact," Cal responded thickening his accent.

"Ok," came the response.

Cal stepped inside. The space wasn't very large, considering the obvious expanse of the building from outside. This was a separate walled off workspace. There was only one light on over a bench, which meant the man Cal was meeting now could stand in the shadows. He swung the door shut behind him and led the way over to the table. There were assorted electrics set out, a soldering machine and what Cal recognised as plastic explosives. On the edges of the light, he could see sacks of fertiliser stacked up in the back of a sports cross over vehicle. Packed the right way it could have enough impact to take out a building. Or a lot of people. Which was why Cal was actually here, not as a courier like the Commander thought.

"So you decide on a location?" Cal started conversation, hovering close enough to see what the SEAL was doing, but not close enough to seem like he was taking mental notes.

"Yes," came the short reply. The commander had a shaved blonde head and bright blue eyes. Or maybe that was just because he basically had a light shining in them. He was taller than Cal but only slightly, but was certainly far more muscled. In a fight, despite the naval officer's combat training, Cal was pretty sure he would get his ass handed to him anyway. Mental note: don't get in a scrap with this guy.

"Revenge is it? Someone piss you off?"

No to the first question. Yes to the second.

The commander gave a grunt in response and carried on cutting wires. Cal looked around again. Nothing really to note. There were no plates on the vehicle and it was a dark silver colour. The warehouse belonged to an old acquaintance of the commander's. One of his old war buddies. He probably had no idea what his buddy was up to in here, Cal thought to himself. He decided on his next question but counted out slow seconds in his head. This couldn't go too quickly. The commander would get suspicious.

"Definitely tonight then yeah?"

"I'm nearly finished."

"Good-o," Cal replied pleasantly as if he didn't mind waiting, as if he had all the time in the world and this was just another routine courier job he was doing for Jackie. "Out to make a big statement by the look of things."

"You talk too much," the commander told him bluntly.

"I have been told that quite a bit actually," Cal noted easily. "You know, fill the silence."

The commander gave another grunt in response.

"So who pissed you off then?" He asked innocently.

"What makes you think someone has pissed me off?" The commander turned towards him slightly.

"Oh I don't know, ratha large car packed to the gunnels with fertilise-a," Cal responded with a vague gesture to the as yet unarmed bomb. "Probably the government right?" He continued to press. The little twitch at the commander's mouth was his tell, and his answer to that question was a yes even if he carried on as if he were pretending to ignore Cal entirely. Cal paced a little. Let a little bit more time go by. It needed to seem as though he were slowly working this out. He studied the garage-style door that would allow the truck to exit into the larger warehouse space and then out through the other garage-style door in the front. "Is it about Libya?"

"I'm trying to concentrate," the SEAL told him pointedly.

"Right you are, sorry."

There had been fighting in Libya on and off for the last six years. American troops had finally gone in under NATO sanctions. The American press had dubbed it just another Iraq. Considering they actually had permission to be there this time, Cal wasn't so sure that was an accurate description. He walked around the vehicle. It was too dark to see anything. He wondered if he would notice something anyway. It wasn't like he was an explosives expert. He had no idea if there was something significant. But he knew the target was the government and that meant one of two things: government buildings or public places. He made his way back to the work bench.

"So you aimin' at a particula target or you just want to make a mess?"

He wanted to make a mess. Cal felt a little cold. Second thought: was that enough for the FBI to come waltzing in? Five minutes later indicated that no, it was not. Fine. Time to up the anti then.

"When are we doin' this then?" Cal asked, casually leaning against the bench, next to where the commander was working.

"When I've finished."

"It's just cos you said to be here at a certain time and well," Cal made a show of checking his watch. "It's been half an hour."

"Wait quietly."

"What you got against the government anyway?" Cal carried on. "They stopped your benefits or somethin'? Friend of yours get blown away 'in-country' and they cova-ed it up." Ooohhh he was close with that last one.

"I said shut up," the commander growled.

"I'm just askin'. Like to know what I'm gettin' in for."

"I was told you'd keep your mouth shut."

Yeah the other guy who was meant to be there right now would have kept his mouth shut. Not Cal though. Everyone else's business was his business. Cal tapped his foot obnoxiously against the work bench's solid leg. It was a rapid fire tattoo. Part of it was to annoy the commander; the other part was Cal in absent thought. This was taking too long and he was impatient.

"Can you stop that?" The navy man asked roughly.

"Sorry," Cal supplied easily. He went back to pacing. Why was it these situations always made him think of Gillian? He worried about not getting home in time for dinner. Or how about the fact that he could get his head blown off in the next instant? Sure the bomb wasn't armed now but the detonator was right over there and the man working on it was angry and a professional. It wasn't as if the SEAL was going to get this wrong and it not explode. Cal could get seriously hurt.


	5. Chapter 5

The only thing that prevented Gillian from going back to the hospital at four in the morning, when she woke, was Lewis. He was still sound asleep so she took a shower and dressed in the bleakness of the early dawn. She made coffee and sipped it sitting up in bed, under the covers despite the fact that it was spring and she was fully dressed, and stared out of the bedroom windows, watching another day begin to unfold. Except it wasn't just another day. Everything had been flipped upside down but despite the early hour, Gillian was starting to feel grounded. Yesterday was a blur, today she was determined to not let the same occur. The first twenty-four hours were the scariest for any trauma. Today she would get a better picture of what was actually going on.

By six she was making Lewis's lunch. She started to make something for Cal too and had to stop, take a minute and think about it. He wasn't going to need lunch today. Gillian's cell phone started ringing. She grabbed for it, her heart thundering, aware of every second she wasn't at the hospital something could happen to Cal that she could potentially get there too late for. Like that hadn't already happened. "Yeah?"

"Have you heard anything?"

It was Emily. Gillian hadn't checked the caller ID. "No," she finally answered, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. "Nothing from the hospital." That was a good sign right?

"Are you going up there?"

"As soon as I drop Lewis at day care."

"Oh."

"I don't really want him to see his father like that," Gillian felt the need to explain. And she didn't really want to tell him anything about it either. She wouldn't want to make false promises. Better not to tell him Dad was going to be just fine when there was the potential for him not to be. And as soon as she got to the hospital she would know, one way or the other, if Cal was going to be fine or not.

"Ok," Emily added.

"Meet me there if you want to."

"I'm not really sure."

There was a moment's silence into which Emily did not elaborate.

"How about I call you later?" Gillian suggested gently.

"Ok," Emily agreed.

Gillian nodded to herself. She understood. It was hard for Emily to see her father that way. Especially while Cal was such a mess. Maybe he would look better this morning? Gillian stopped that train of thought immediately. Better to just deal with one thing at a time and try not to hope for too much. "Maybe come up in the afternoon," Gillian finished. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Ok," Emily's voice sounded heavy. "Kept thinking about Dad."

"Yeah," Gillian agreed. So did she. Which is why it took her forever to drift off and why her sleep was fit full, why she kept waking up, why her dreams were bizarre and frenzied, why she had woken for the last time so early.

Lewis appeared in the kitchen and became the perfect distraction. Gillian fixed his breakfast. She finished his lunch. She got him dressed and dropped him off at day care but with him gone, thoughts and fears started to creep back in. He didn't ask about Cal because sometimes Cal would leave before him in the morning or Gillian suspected was more likely, the nearly four year old was more worried about himself than whether anyone was missing or not. He would certainly sense his father's absence that night though. That was when she would make sure she had a plan to tell him.

Gillian wasn't sure what she expected when she got to the hospital that morning. She was afraid he would be worse, she hoped he would be better, she dreaded that he would be the same. She would have taken 'no change' over 'worse', but 'better' over anything else. If only she had any control over those kinds of things. The nurse on the desk gave her a smile and greeted her by name. Gillian recognised her as the woman who had sent her home last night, but she still couldn't recall her name. It just would not come to her. "Go on through," the nurse told her with encouragement. "Doctor Rockwell is in with him."

Gillian hurried her pace a little. Yesterday when the doctor had asked if she had questions she couldn't think of any. Yesterday when the doctor had explained things to her, she wasn't really paying attention, she couldn't focus, it was hard to be attentive. Now she had questions. Now she was listening. She needed to know exactly what was going on and what to expect.

When she rounded the doorframe to Cal's room she found a few medical personnel in there, as well as Doctor Avery Rockwell. Gillian hesitated. Was she allowed in? A young woman spotted her and waved her in. Rockwell turned to see who she was talking to. "Good morning Mrs Lightman. We're just checking Cal's incision."

"Gillian," she corrected absently. The doctor made a quick round of introductions and gestured for her to come and stand close by so she could see what he was doing. She wasn't really sure that she wanted to. The ventilator tube had not been removed but most of the large wadding of bandages around his head had while the doctor inspected the wound. She could see her husband's face more clearly now, including the bruises around his eyes. She focused on them instead of the staples as much as she could.

After he was finished Rockwell spoke with his assistant in a low voice for a moment. The other person in the room, Gillian had forgotten her name already, placed a new dressing over Cal's injury and taped it into place. Rockwell stripped off his gloves and took the chart from his assistant while Gillian heard him say distinctly: "I'll do it." The room cleared out. The doctor suggested they go and sit so they could talk. He took them across the room, dragging the chair bedside the bed along with him. He gestured for Gillian to take a seat in it while he sat in the one against the wall. "I need to ask you a few questions about Cal's medical history. It will help us to treat him now while we wait for medical records to show up."

Gillian nodded.

"How long have you known Cal?"

"Nearly twenty years."

"Ok," Rockwell nodded. "So you'd have a fair idea."

'_I haven't even known him half his life_,' Gillian thought sadly.

Rockwell flipped through the chart until he found the page he was looking for. He asked Gillian about Cal's general history, whether he was a smoker and if he had had any major illnesses or previous injuries, if he was a heavy drinker, if he was allergic to any medications, if he was on any medications, whether he had received blood products before. Cal was relatively healthy, even if he tended to get himself beat up. She told Rockwell about the appendicitis, the dislocated shoulder, the cancer and that he had quit smoking once Emily had been born.

"What about recently?" Rockwell asked next.

Gillian thought for a moment. "Lewis gave him a cold a few weeks ago."

"Serious?"

"Not really. He had a cough."

"Wet sounding, a lot of mucous?"

"Uh yeah," Gillian thought back to those nights Cal's wracking cough had kept her awake. She had felt bad for him and got up to get him water and something to calm his throat and lungs. He had whispered apologies in the dark, for keeping her awake. Her response: in sickness and in health, and he had laughed because she had made no such promises and neither had he. It didn't seem too funny now.

Rockwell made a note of that. "How long ago was that exactly?"

"Two weeks," Gillian affirmed.

"And he had cleared it?"

"Yes." It had been two weeks of hell and sleep disturbed nights but he had been fine after that. "Why is that?"

Rockwell looked up from his paperwork. "With prolonged coma patients, pneumonia infection is a very real and dangerous risk," he spoke carefully again, with what Gillian was starting to recognise as his 'potentially bad news' tone of voice. "Because Cal can't swallow reflexively, it gives bacteria's the chance to multiply without restriction. It's something we're going to monitor very closely. Were you also sick at the time?"

"No," Gillian shook her head. Like the plague in Europe, there was no explanation as to why she had been the only one that particular strain of cold had skipped over, at home and at work.

"Ok and Lewis? Your son?"

"He's still got a runny nose," Gillian answered both questions.

Rockwell gave an understanding nod. "It might be better if he stays away for a little while. Just until we have more information about Cal or his cold clears up for good."

Gillian nodded and guiltily felt relieved. She needed a good excuse to keep Lewis away from here for a while. Until she could gather herself and figure out how to explain what had happened to his father sufficiently. And on top of that, she didn't want Lewis to see Cal like this, with excessive bandaging and tubes, bleeding wounds and bruising that distorted his features. Ok he looked better today with the dressings changed, but he was still discoloured, he was still blank eyes, he was still lying there naked with a sheet barely covering anything.

Doctor Rockwell went on to explain how the care staff would move Cal every two to three hours to make sure he didn't form bed sores. They were progressing from an emergency care reaction to a long term care status.

"How long is he going to be like this?" Gillian asked alarmed.

"It's very difficult to tell," Rockwell told her in that careful tone of voice.

"Please, don't sugar coat it," Gillian told him, fear causing her tone to be sharp. "I need to know."

"Ok," the doctor agreed. "Any type of brain injury is very difficult to predict. Any guesses I make would be guesses, educated only by what has happened in the past. I don't know for sure what would happen with Cal. Every case follows their own path."

'_Yeah, yeah_,' Gillian thought. '_You've disclaimed yourself now tell me the truth_.'

"Cal has suffered a cerebral contusion to the frontal and temporal lobes. The biggest risk from this is intracranial pressure, which is our number one concern right now."

Gillian remembered. They had talked about this yesterday. A cerebral contusion was a bruise of the brain. Intracranial pressure meant there was swelling that could potentially lead to a herniation. A herniation was when the brain was forced against the confines of the skull. The skull had sharp ridges around the inside, which the brain would be damaged on. That was dangerous because a herniation of the brain was irreversible and meant death. She understood exactly what that meant.

"We took Cal for another MRI this morning to check on the swelling and it seems to be holding steady at this point. Which is good. It means we're maintaining it. But the worst of the swelling will not show through for another three to five days."

"Right," Gillian acknowledged. She had the distinct impression he had already explained this to her and was patiently going over it again. She can't have been listening very carefully. "What do you do to maintain it?"

"A number of things. The surgery was the first. We inserted a tube to drain away excess fluid. If the pressure becomes too much, we will do it again. For now, we try to keep blood vessels in his body open as much as possible, and blood volume high."

"So, you're increasing his blood pressure?" Gillian cut in.

"Not increasing it, but making sure it stays consistently within a normal range. We are inducing hyperventilation."

Gillian thought he was breathing too fast. The noise of the ventilator, she knew now why she kept hearing it at home. It was too fast. "What does the hyperventilation do?"

"The increased rate of breathing will constrict the blood vessels in the brain."

Gillian nodded that she understood. She should have known that really. She had treated patients who hyperventilated. That was what caused black outs in panic attacks and anxiety disorders. So they were trying to restrict blood flow into Cal's brain and encourage excess blood to drain out. A tricky balance by the sound of it. "When will you stop sedating him?"

"At this point we are waiting for the three to five day mark. When the worst of the swelling goes down we will make sure Cal can breathe on his own, remove the ventilator if possible and reduce his sedation."

"Then he'll wake up?"

Rockwell flashed a micro-expression of sadness. "I can't make a determination."

Gillian sat quietly for a moment.

"But Cal is doing really well at the moment so I'm confident at this stage of his prognosis."

Gillian nodded. She really liked this guy. His optimism and how he was taking the time to go over questions or information she was sure he had talked to her about yesterday. Not to mention he probably had a minion that would do this kind of thing for him.

"So, when he's not sedated anymore, what are his chances of waking up?" Gillian pressed again. She wanted an answer. She _needed_ an answer.

"Well," the doctor took a moment to think, or perhaps just to buy some time. "Like I said it's difficult to predict. Typically, eight-seven percent of patients with a Glasgow Coma Score of three or four on the scale die or remain in a vegetative state. Eighty-seven percent of patients with a score between eleven and fifteen make a good recovery. So with Cal's it will be very difficult to even hazard a guess until the sedation is ceased and we can check him for responsiveness."

Gillian didn't realise she had tears on her cheeks until Doctor Rockwell reached for a box of tissues on a small low table next to a large cupboard where medical supplies were held. He gestured with the box, holding it out to her, and she realised she must need them. She took a few and folded them and dabbed at her eyes. She hated waiting. And she was being told that she was going to have to hang out for three to five whole days before she could get an answer to her question.

"I'm very sorry to tell you that. I sense you would appreciate honesty."

"I do," Gillian blurted. "I do appreciate the honesty. Thank you." Because there was no way she would want to go in to this blind. If Cal wasn't going to make it, she would prepare herself for that now. She wouldn't cope with building up her hopes nice and high only to have them brought down as quickly as Cal had been.

"We'll know more after the three day mark. And we'll know even more after four weeks. Most coma's don't last longer than that. I will remain positive until the information I get insists on otherwise."

Gillian nodded. That sounded like a good way to look at it.

"I have one more question," Avery gazed at her evenly, almost sympathetically. "Does Cal have a living will?"


	6. Chapter 6

Cal turned around to face the SEAL again. He shot daggers into his back and wondered if he would notice them. He didn't appear to. "You go on any ops this year?" He asked casually.

"You talk far too much for your own good," the commander told him again, this time getting to his feet.

Cal's fear was not faked. He thought he saw the flash of a weapon in the commander's hand and was about to call out a warning that would have given him away in an instant. Cal jumped but realised quickly the naval officer held the detonator in his grasp, not a small hand gun. He was immediately relieved he'd kept his mouth shut. "Ready then?" Cal asked nervously.

Commander Poleman laughed. "Relax Limey. It's not live. Not until I install it. Then make sure you drive carefully."

Cal gave a forced grin. He wandered over to the work bench and took a look at the wiring tools the SEAL had been using. The window in the front of the building suddenly shattered as a round cylinder was thrown in. It took Cal a second to realise what the canister was but as it started to spew smoke he knew. He only managed to turn slightly as the flash went off and he was knocked off his feet, his head and heart pounding as his body was assaulted by the ground and the force of the blast. The door barged open next and men in black special operations body suits streamed in, guns raised, flashlights swirling through the smoke choking Cal's eyes and lungs. They yelled at him and he had no idea what they said. He raised his hands with difficulty over his head where he lay; his left shoulder, the one that had been dislocated many years ago, protesting that he had landed on it.

He was dragged to his feet and taken outside. He gulped fresh air and felt his head start to clear. Someone gave him some water and the back of a car to sit in and gather his wits. Cal swallowed the taste of artificial smoke. Reynolds came to check on him; Cal assured him he was fine. His ears continued to ring though. The Special Agent apologised for the stun grenade. Cal waved it off. At this point he was just glad it was over. He had a dinner to get home to. He checked his watch. He was going to get there on time if he left now.

The commander kicked up all kinds of stink. Cal saw a desperate man, who was so used to tight rules and control, with his plan unravelling around him. Reynolds was confident JAG had enough to convict him and that Cal's role in this had now ceased. Cal wondered if that meant he was allowed to go too. No one came to tell him so one way or the other. Not even after they had gone back to the Naval Yards where NCIS agents took over the debrief and questioning. After the FBI agents left Cal finally asked someone whether they still wanted him or not. The answer was no. Cal had to get a taxi back to the Lightman Group building to get his car. By the time he got home dinner was over. Lewis was getting ready for bed.

"Dad!" Lewis raced for him as soon as he was in the hallway.

Gillian followed her son out of the bathroom quickly. She spotted Cal and her surprise morphed into concern. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," he responded quietly.

"Hi Dad!" Emily called from the living room.

"Hi Em!" He called back as he lifted Lewis to his hip. "Sorry I'm late," Cal told Gillian softly.

Lewis turned his nose up at him. "You smell funny." He struggled immediately to be let down again.

"Finish your teeth," Gillian told him.

"I'm gonna say hello," Cal gestured to the living room.

"Not yet," Gillian took his arm and pulled him into the bathroom. Cal caught his reflection as he came in. He was covered in dust. Head to foot covered in it. "You should clean up and change first."

"Maybe a showa," Cal suggested.

"Make it quick. Lewis won't go to bed unless you tuck him in."

Lewis eyed up their reflections in the large bathroom mirror. He spat into the sink, then brought his teeth together and pulled back his lips to scrub the fronts.

"I'll heat your dinner up," Gillian added turning to look at Cal.

"Oh god I'm starvin'!" Cal suddenly realised. "Life sava you are," he gave her a kiss on the cheek. He headed for the door.

"Dad! Wait!" Lewis turned on his step.

"I'm just havin' a showa," Cal told him. The sign for shower was to imitate the stream of water from an overhead nozzle against his head. "And putting my PJ's on, all right?" He used the sign 'dress' to indicate he was going to change. "Then I'll come and give you a cuddle in bed."

"All right," Lewis nodded. "Be quick."

"All right," Cal agreed with a slight laugh. He could be a right character sometimes. "Tell Em I won't be long."

"Sure," Gillian gave him the tail end of her amused smile.

Cal bailed for hot water and soap. He scrubbed his hair and watched the dirt swirl down the drain. His shoulder was stiff and sore from the fall and his ears still had a slight ring to them if he stopped to notice. So he didn't stop. After he had cleaned up he found his family in the living room. Emily was on the couch with Lewis cuddled up against her side, reading to him. Gillian was in Cal's chair, watching them out of the corner of her eye.

"Where's your otha half then?" Cal greeted Emily, leaning down to give her head a kiss.

She looked up and gave him a smile. "Too tired to be social apparently."

"Oh right. That's code for dinna with the in-laws sounds horrendous," Cal teased dryly. Lewis scooted down the couch to stand at his father's feet and silently beg to be let up. Cal lifted him easily.

"I'll get your dinner," Gillian told him getting up. Cal stole her seat and sat Lewis in the gap between him and the arm rest. "You don't want your sista to read to you anymore?" Cal asked him. Lewis shook his head and pressed his face against his father's side, his little arm reached across Cal's diaphragm in a hug.

"I won't take that personally," Emily told him. "Where were you this evening? Did you forget about me? Or were you purposefully avoiding dinner as well?"

"Oh you know, I was out savin' the world from disasta," Cal responded.

"Aw my hero," Emily faked enthusiasm.

"Here," Gillian reappeared. She handed the hot plate to Cal carefully.

"Oooh that looks nice," Lewis perked up.

"You have to sit still," Cal told him, holding the plate out of reach. "Go and sit with Mum," Cal suggested while Lewis wriggled around on his lap so he could see what Cal was having for dinner. "I'm havin' what you had," Cal told him.

"Yours looks yummy," Lewis told him.

"Come and sit with me," Gillian called to Lewis.

"I'm hungy," Lewis announced.

"No you're not," Gillian got up and lifted him away from his father. Cal thanked her. "You just want some because your favourite person is having some." Lewis squirmed against her. She put him down on the couch next to Emily. "Finish your book. It's nearly bed time."

"Yeah Lewis," Emily piped up. "I really want to see what happened in the end." She picked up the book again. "You'll have to help me turn the pages."

Lewis settled against her side again. Emily picked a page but Lewis informed her she was wrong. He flipped back a few until they were at the correct spot. He even pointed out the exact line. Cal watched them amused as he ate. Gillian watched him. He could feel her eyes on him. He was going to have to give her a play-by-play later when they were in bed and could talk.

Gillian took Lewis to bed while Cal talked with his daughter in the living room. Emily was studying at the George Washington University Law School. It was a twenty minute bus ride to the Lightman Group offices and Cal loved that she would stop by for lunch if she had a gap between classes. He loved having her back in the city. It was exactly what he wanted. He got to see her more often and Lewis got to hang out with his big sister. It was perfect really. And she was always willing to babysit. He asked her about school. She was loving it. She seemed very genuine when she said it too and he figured taking a break from studying had done her good.

Gillian appeared in the doorway and Cal got up quickly, excusing himself to say goodnight to his son. Lewis was waiting for him in bed, his blue eyes silently watching Cal head across the room. "Goodnight Lewis," Cal signed to him; 'good' was pressing the fingertips of his dominant hand against his chin and bringing it forward; 'night' was placing the wrist of his right hand over that of his left held in front of his body, palm down. He then slid his right hand towards the fingers of his left in a short motion.

"Goodnight Dad," Lewis signed it back. Cal leaned one knee on the mattress to bend down and give him a kiss. The plastic sheet crackled lightly under his weight. Lewis latched his arms around his neck like he was clinging on for dear life. Cal hugged him and then pried him away. He asked if teddy was nice and warm under the blankets. Lewis nodded that he was. Cal wished him sweet dreams. He told him he loved him. Lewis said he loved him too. Cal gave him another kiss and went for the door. He switched out the light and the lamp went out beside Lewis's bed, leaving just a dim nightlight on. Cal didn't want him to have one. He wanted him to get used to the dark. It would screw with his hormones sleeping with a light on. But Lewis was at the overactive imagination age and it was a tossup between him constantly getting out of bed afraid, or waking them up in the night with bad dreams, or the light. The light won out. Cal was too tired to be constantly woken up anymore.

Back in the living room Emily was saying she should get going too as it was getting late. Normally, Cal would want to stop her, but now he could rationalise that he would see her in a few days. Thursday usually allowed for that lunchtime visit. So he hugged her goodbye and walked her to the door and told her to say hello to Ajay. Emily gave a casual goodbye and it lightened Cal's heart to see her happy and carefree. Soon she would be getting married and he knew without a doubt that her life would twist slightly into a new rhythm. He closed the door and went inside. Gillian was taking his plate to the kitchen. "I'll do them," he offered of the dishes.

Gillian straightened up from putting his plate in the dishwasher and stood aside to lean against the bench while he scrubbed pans lightly to get the worst of the food off before placing them in the bottom rack. "So are you going to tell me what happened?"

Cal gave her a quick rundown. Talking to the SEAL, the fertiliser packed up in the back of the vehicle, the detonator, the stun grenade. The reason why.

"He had a good point," Gillian noted gently.

"Yeah, shame his method of communication warranted intervention."

Gillian watched him for a moment. "I'm glad you weren't hurt."

"My ears are still ringin'," Cal told her lightly.

"Aw," Gillian faked concern. She crossed to where he was standing with the soap powder in hand. "Poor baby," she added giving the hair at the base of his neck a brush. She left the kitchen. Cal dumped soap, turned the machine on and followed after her, getting lights on his way out.

**PJ**

Cal pushed against Gillian gently until she turned over on to her back. He followed her quickly, pressing his body up against her hip. His hand found her waist and gripped her tightly to keep her where she was. This morning, this was his game. "This will be the last time," Cal started talking as he traced his lips down Gillian's throat. She tilted her chin away to give him better access.

"Yes?" She prompted. She hoped it wasn't the last time. Wait, what was he talking about this was the last time? Should she be concerned?

"We do this."

"I hope not," Gillian noted sharply.

"I wasn't finished," Cal reprimanded lightly.

"Sorry," she petted the hair at the back of his neck, encouraging. "Go on."

He spent a moment kissing and nuzzling around her collar bone until Gillian's shins shivered. "In this bed."

"I still stand by the hope not," Gillian replied.

Cal shifted suddenly to kiss her mouth deeply. His hand found its way under her shirt, pushing it up as his fingers travelled north over her smooth skin, around the curve of her ribcage. "Still hadn't finished," he told her as he pulled away again and shifted further down her body, repositioning so he was between her legs now.

"Oh god hurry up!" Gillian groaned as his mouth took over from his hand, kissing a trail down her abdomen.

"Not really a request I like to get too often," Cal mused, as if he were talking to himself, his breath tickling the places he had just kissed. He teased his tongue around her naval and Gillian gave a low groan and arched her hips off the bed into his chest.

"Yeah well, I was never really good with suspense."

"But the suspense makes it more exciting."

"Yeah, sure, when we have all the time in the world and the house to ourselves you can torture me all you like but..."

"Ah Lewis," Cal recalled conversationally. "Yes, bless him; muchkin interruptus." He paused. "Your son."

"Your son," Gillian retorted.

Cal chuckled again.

"Cal," Gillian brought her gaze squarely on his. "Can we just get on with it?"

He gave her an amused grin, the corner of his lip rising slightly. "What happened to spicin' up our sex life? Makin' it excitin' and all that?"

"I already woke up horny. I don't know why you feel the need to prolong this," Gillian pointed out sharply.

Cal's grin got wider and he gave a slight chuckle. He moved again, this time coming closer, so his body was pressed along the length of hers and she could feel he was turned on too. He kissed her neck again and she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thought you wanted to spice up our sex life."

"Yes," Gillian agreed with a little gasp. The scratch of his beard against the places he had just kissed shot electricity to her groin. "But..." It also stole her coherent thought.

"But what my darlin'?" He murmured again, this time in her ear, before delicately pulling her ear lobe between his teeth. Her fingers dug into his back and she pressed her hips up against his and he found himself giving an involuntary growl at the pressure against his groin.

"But oh fuck Cal," she gave a little sigh and he pushed back against her with his hips. She groaned in his ear and this time he was the one shivering. Her fingers pushed his underwear down as far as they could without him shifting back to give her greater access. She did try and the result was her chest pressed tightly against his and her face in his shoulder.

Cal could suddenly acutely feel the heat of her body; it was comforting. "Yes?" Cal prompted gently while he continued to work her ear. "Tell me what you want," he whispered.

"I want you."

"I know that luv. What do you want me to do?"

"Fuck me," Gillian blurted. "I want you to fuck me."

"Lovely," Cal responded lightly.

**PJ**

"So what were you saying?"

"When?" Cal turned his head on her pillow to look over at her. His hair was dishevelled in that sexy way Gillian loved so much. She rolled into him and combed her fingers through the strands. Cal gave her a slightly amused expression, waiting for her to expound.

"When we started. You were saying this was the last time we would do this."

"Oh right," Cal remembered. "Uh I meant, that will be the last time we do that in this bed in this room."

"Right," Gillian agreed and suddenly seemed thoughtful.

"Where'd you go," Cal shifted her hair out of her face.

"Big changes today."

"Yeah," Cal agreed.

"I should probably go check on Lewis. See if he's awake yet."

"Uh huh," Cal agreed. Gillian shifted to roll away from him but he didn't let her go.

"What?" She asked gently.

"Are you all right?" He asked sincerely.

"Yes."

"Cos havin' a shag in the mornin' is meant to make you feel good not sad."

She gave him a slightly amused smile, acknowledging his attempt at lightening the mood. "I know. And it did," she gave him a quick grin and leaned in for a quick kiss. "It was lovely thank you."

Cal gave her a smile. "But?"

"No, no buts. It just gets me thinking about why we're going."

Cal's smile faded. "Yeah," he agreed. "But there is a silver linin' to this."

"Yeah?" Gillian asked. There had been many positive points to moving and they had gone over them many times while making a decision. But she was always open to a silver lining.

"We get to christen every room in the new house."

Gillian gave him a slow smile that made him grin in return. "There is that," she noted lightly, this time actually moving away from him. She climbed out of the messed up bed covers, kicking her underwear away from her feet. Cal watched her remove her shirt too. "I'm going to have a shower. Care to join me?"

"Sounds delightful," Cal announced following her move out of bed.


	7. Chapter 7

"When's Dad back?"

Gillian turned to her son. "Soon remember? He'll be back real soon."

Lewis seemed to consider this. "When?" He clearly found her answer unsatisfactory.

"In five days," Gillian responded with a slight edge of exasperation. Lewis had been asking since day one, from the moment they got back in the car to head home again and Cal hadn't joined them. She had shown him on a map where Cal had flown to and she had shown him on a calendar when Cal would be back. She was crossing off the days so Lewis could see but his concept of time was apparently not quite as assured as Gillian's was. Not yet anyway.

"It's just," Lewis started. "Far away."

"Yeah I know," Gillian agreed. She left the sink where she was peeling potatoes. In her car seat on the kitchen table, Lily gave a gurgle. She waved her arms at Gillian as she walked by. Lewis was standing by the calendar on the wall, studying it. "Look," she crouched down to Lewis's level and pointed to the day Cal was due back that was outlined in a big red square. "Dad will be back this day and this is today," she moved her finger back several squares to where the black 'X's' were marking off the days gone by.

"But," Lewis stared. He looked over to his mother. "Where's he gone?"

Gillian reached for the atlas on the end of the table. At first, she had put it away, and then when he kept on asking she just left it out. She flipped through to a map of the continental United States. "We're here," she found the District of Columbia. "And Dad is over here," she used her left hand to point to Seattle.

Lewis stared for a moment. "Far away."

"Yes, very far away."

"We go see him," Lewis looked up at her.

"No," Gillian shook her head lightly. "We can't."

Lewis pouted.

"Because Dad's working remember? And Lily is too little to go visiting."

Lewis's pout turned into a lip quiver and his blue eyes suddenly filled up with tears. Gillian's heart broke into pieces. "I'm sorry," she added as she put her arms around her son's little body and sat back on the kitchen floor, pulling him against her body. Lewis let rip a wail and from her car seat, oblivious to the action, but clearly aware of the noise, Lily gave a squeal. Gillian rubbed her hand up and down Lewis's back. "I'm sorry sweetheart," she murmured to him.

"Dad's gone!" Lewis wailed.

"He's coming back," Gillian tried but unfortunately instilling hope in him just made him miss his father more. 'Coming back' clearly meant tomorrow, or now, or later in the evening to Lewis and that was where they were getting confused. Gillian sighed as Lewis continued to sob. She awkwardly pulled her phone from her pocket and sent a text to her husband. A few seconds later it started to ring. Lewis pulled away at the noise. His eyes were red and watery, his cheeks and nose had turned pink like his mother's did when she cried. Gillian held out the phone to him, "It's for you."

Lewis sniffed and spluttered while he stared.

"Want me to answer it?" Gillian asked him.

Lewis nodded and rested his head on her shoulder. "Hi," Gillian picked up the call.

"Hello darlin', what's up?"

"Can you talk?"

"For a minute."

"Lewis misses you very much."

"I miss him too," Cal gave a sigh.

"Can you talk to him for a second?"

"Of course."

"Here," Gillian put the phone against Lewis's ear. "It's for you." She could hear Cal's voice through the phone; the timbre of it was soothing even if she couldn't make out specific words. Lewis gave a hiccup and a shuddering breath, but the tears stopped and he blinked the last few away to fall against Gillian's chest where they soaked into the material straight away. Lewis's finger came up to feel the damp spots. Then he started nodding. Gillian could hear Cal's voice go quiet on the phone. She almost pulled the phone from her son's ear.

"Ok?" She heard Cal ask.

"Ok," Lewis responded.

"Good man. I love you."

"Luff ooooo," Lewis echoed. Cal said something else and Lewis reached up to push the phone back to his mother. "For you," he told her.

"Hello?" Cal queried.

"I'm here," Gillian responded.

"Poor little guy."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"And how are you holding up?"

Gillian sighed this time. "I miss you too."

"Do you need me to tell you you're a big girl now and you have to be a good girl for Mum?"

Gillian smiled slightly. "Can you blow kisses down the phone?"

"So long as you promise to blow right on back when I get home."

"Don't be rude," Gillian admonished, using Cal's definition of the word. She heard him chuckle lightly. Then he told her he had to go and she reluctantly agreed. He promised to call her later. He made kissy noises and told her he loved her and he would see her soon and then he was gone. Gillian looked over to Lewis, feeling a strange cold feeling in her chest. "Better?" She asked him, signing the word.

Lewis nodded.

"Good," she wiped the tears away from his cheeks and brushed his hair back from his forehead. He might be on the other side of the country, but at least Lewis could still talk to his father when he needed to. And that at least was something better than nothing.

**PJ**

"Mummy."

Gillian stirred, confused; when had she come home? She didn't remember. She was at home right? This was her bed.

"Mum," the voice was more insistent and a little hand was on her shoulder, pushing. She shifted to make room in the bed but not too much in case she bumped in to Cal and disturbed him. Except, his side of the bed was cold and it struck her hard that he wasn't there with her. At home. In their bed. He was in the hospital; neither awake nor asleep. Lewis climbed under the covers in front of her and wrapped an arm around her neck. He snuggled against her body. Gillian hugged him tightly and fought back the urge to cry. She lost of course but Lewis didn't seem to notice the slight shudders and shaking breaths. After a while he pulled back and studied her in the greying morning.  
>"Where's Dad?" He asked directly, his father's eyes staring in to hers. 'Where' was a raised index finger wiggled back and forth slightly. His eyebrows were pulled together in question.<p>

"He's sick remember," Gillian responded easily, using the sign, which was 'five' hands, with the middle finger bent at the large knuckle, one at her head and one at her belly and bringing them together. It wasn't a lie, saying Cal was simply 'sick', but didn't know how else was she meant to explain the truth to him? Cal has a severe brain injury and is in a coma? "Dad hit his head and he's at the doctor's now until he gets better." Hit: her right fist striking against her raised left index finger. Head: simply pointing to it. Doctor: tapping the 'M' fingers of her right hand against the wrist of her left arm at a severe angle. She had told him this a few days ago; clearly it had not sunk in yet.

Lewis seemed to consider this. "The doctor make him all betta." He signed 'better': pressing the fingertips of his right hand against his lips then moving them away towards his shoulder, but up and out, while closing the hand.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed and pulled him in for another hug. Lewis let her for a moment then pushed at her until she let him go. She fought the urge to cry again. Why was his rejection feeling so acute this morning? Everything to do with Cal not being there? Yes, absolutely.

"Mum I'm hungy." He signed hungry too: forming his hand into a 'C' shape running it from his chest to his stomach, which when lying on his side, was harder to do.

"Ok, shall we have some breakfast?" Gillian signed 'eat': pressing the tips of her fingers and thumb against her mouth as if she were pressing food between her lips.

Lewis nodded and turned to climb out of the bed again. He rushed for the door and a minute later she could hear the TV come on in the living room, slightly too loud because Lewis didn't have his hearing aids in yet.

Tears leaked out anyway while Gillian tried to force them away. She had cried in the night and that was all the crying she was going to continue to allow. She had to be strong for her family right now. And that meant taking care of Lewis, trying to keep things normal despite the gaping absence of his father. Should she consider it interesting he hadn't noticed, or maybe just hadn't asked her about Cal, until this morning? Nothing last night when she had tucked him in to bed and turned out the light. Maybe he had accepted her brief explanation as to why Cal hadn't been around the last few days. Maybe Lewis had waited for Cal to come in and fallen asleep waiting for him to show up. Her father had done that to her on occasion. She would wait, try to stay awake, because he said he would come in to say goodnight and of course he never would. He would carry on drinking and she would fall asleep waiting and in the morning forget about it. It wasn't until she got older that she remembered; he hadn't tucked her in to bed since she was four, despite promises to the contrary. Gillian didn't want it to be the same for Lewis. He had a special bond with his father. It wasn't meant to be this way at all.

Gillian climbed out of bed before the grip of self-pity could get a hold of her. She pulled a robe on as she tucked her feet into the slippers she had received for mother's day and headed into Lewis's room to take his hearing aids off the shelf. When he saw her come into the room with them he stopped jumping on the couch cushions and sat still so she could attach them and turn them on. She asked him to turn the TV down a little bit and he obliged as she was leaving the room. But only a little bit.

Gillian fried eggs for breakfast, wanting something hot, but not having the patience for anything more complex. She was impatient to get back to the hospital. Despite the fact her phone never rang, she could admit she almost bordered on paranoid that something had happened to Cal. That something _else_ had happened to Cal. She kept her phone with her at all times, even taking it in to the bathroom with her. The phone chimed and Gillian dived on it. Lewis gave her a startled expression. It was a text from Emily: **NOT SURE I CAN MAKE IT 2DAY. GOT A TEST 2 PREP 4.**

Gillian hit reply immediately. It had been two days since Emily had been up to the hospital. At first, Gillian was willing to give her the space to process. Now, two days later, she was going to stage an intervention. Emily couldn't hide from her father or the problem and pretend it wasn't happening and it didn't exist. She needed to deal. **I'LL B THERE ALL DAY. COME UP IF U CAN.**

No pressure for now. Tomorrow, if Emily still had not shown up, she was going to drive over there and get her, harsh as it may sound. Cal needed to know his daughter was around in support, and Emily needed to see that Cal was ok, instead of letting the fear of the unknown keep her away. For now he was ok, she didn't need to know the chances of him waking up again were on the fence at the moment. Gillian didn't get a reply message. She went to have a shower. Lewis joined her and played with an assortment of toys that had migrated from his own bathroom to theirs, while Gillian washed her hair.

She sent Lewis to get dressed while she did the same but when she went to his room to check on him she found him playing, naked, on the floor with an impressive collection of dinosaur toys. "Hey rude boy!" She called to him. "Get dressed."

He looked up and gave her such a wicked grin; he looked like Cal so much Gillian felt like she had been sucker punched. Her first reaction was to grab her phone and snap a picture to send to Cal so he could see but she was too slow, and Cal wasn't exactly responding to her messages right now. She picked out clothes for Lewis and helped him dress. She tied his shoes for him and he went to get his bag from the kitchen where she had packed his lunch and drink. Gillian gathered her purse, phone, keys, other essential items and met him at the garage internal access door.

"Ready?" She asked him.

He gave a solemn nod and pulled the door open, jumping down the steps, one at a time, landing on the concrete of the garage floor. He went to Gillian's car while his mother realised again that she should really find out where Cal's car was and bring it home. Or at least just find out what had happened to it. It might be in a police impound by now. Gillian drove Lewis to day care and took him in. He hung up his bag and said goodbye and then ran off. Gillian watched him go trying to shut out thoughts about Cal never seeing his son grow up. Another thought made its way to the surface, one that was far more logical and practical and tangible; something she could cling on to as a distraction. She was going to have to start telling people what was going on.

**PJ**

"Good morning," Jay greeted her with a smile. "You're just in time. I was going to do his mouth care. But you can do it if you want to."

Gillian said hello in return as she crossed the room and put her purse down next to the chair she had spent all of yesterday in. She was learning names and faces now the initial fog of fear, confusion and shock was dissipating. Jay was a twenty-something year old nurse. He worked days and was one of Cal's primary caregivers. Gillian had seen him everyday Cal had been here and he periodically checked in with the both of them during his shift.

"What do I do?" Gillian asked with trepidation. She was by no means comfortable around Cal at all, even after two days now. Her touching him was limited to his hand. She couldn't even bring herself to caress his face. The bruises had bloomed and he was ugly shades of purple and yellow. When they changed his dressings in front of her, it made her feel sick. She shouldn't react that way, not logically, she had seen worse in her lifetime and she had seen Cal in worse of a state too, but for whatever reason, seeing the ugly staples holding his shaved scalp together was too much for her to handle. She might have seen him broken down, but that had never got the best of him. Not until now. It wasn't right for someone who was usually so animated.

"You brush his teeth just like you would brush your own," Jay prepared a spongy pad on the end of a stick from its sterile packaging. He handed it to her. "Just be careful of the ventilator tube and make sure you get his gums and tongue."

Gillian nodded she understood and then wondered where the hell to start. "Go for it," Jay urged. "You can't hurt him. He's loaded up on pain and sedation meds right now. Just stick it in there."

So Gillian did, feeling a little bad for force-feeding a weird spongy pad into her husband's mouth to brush his teeth with. He gave an audible grunt that almost made her drop the stick with the shock of it.

"Let him know what you're up to," Jay encouraged again, backing off just a little as she started to work the pad around the confines of Cal's mouth. "I'll be back in a minute."

They had told her to talk to Cal, that he would hear her and that it would bring the both of them comfort, but Gillian had a hard time with it. She felt foolish. And she was used to Cal responding. It seemed silly talking to a silent room. She didn't even talk to herself as she did chores around the house, not like her mother had when she was a child and had found it so amusing. Cal gave another moan, like he was grumbling in complaint. "I'm just brushing your teeth," Gillian told him, testing out how the words sounded. She moved the pad to the other side of his mouth, removing it entirely and reinserting it between his lips so she could clean the other side. She slowed down around the breathing tube, especially as she dug around under it to get to his tongue. She stopped, hesitated, looked over her shoulder. There didn't seem to be anyone approaching; the only sounds were the ventilator and heart monitor in their steady rhythms. "Cal?" She leaned in closer to him, closing her eyes so she could see that silly amused grin of his that she found so sexy. "Cal. I love you. I just wanted you to know, that I love you."


	8. Chapter 8

Cal threw the last box into the back seat of his car and slammed the door closed. The box had slipped into the gap so the door bounced off. Cal tried forcing it and when that didn't work had to shove the box back and then try slamming the door again.

"Hey," Gillian protested.

"It was labelled linen," Cal turned to her innocently. She was putting a box on the back seat of her car too. Lewis was climbing into his car seat.

"Lucky," Gillian told him.

Cal gave a shrug and moved over to clip Lewis's seat belt into the catch. "When we gonna be there?" Lewis asked him.

"Twenty minutes," Cal responded. Lewis studied him for a moment. "Soon," Cal clarified.

"We're going now," Gillian told their son as Cal closed the door carefully but didn't make any move to head towards his car. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah I'm just gonna lock up," Cal indicated the wide open front door.

"Ok," Gillian gave him a smile.

"Wait for me all right?"

"Ok," Gillian agreed lightly, knowing what he was referring to. She went around to the driver's side of her vehicle. Cal heard the engine start as he headed up the path. There was a broken brick on the edge where Mitchell's boot had come crashing down during Cal's abduction. He wondered why they had never had it replaced. Was it to remember? Or was it simply because they never used the front path, always entering and exiting their home through the garage, so never had to see it. Except in rare circumstances. Like the Mitchell incident. And Lily.

Cal reached the door and pulled it closed on the empty hallway. He used his key to lock it and by the time he turned around again Gillian was already further down the street, the red of her brake lights flashing as she came to stop at the corner. This wasn't goodbye. Not quite yet. The truck had left ahead of them with their furniture and some of the larger boxes but they planned on making one more trip themselves so they could say farewells in private. They had lived in this house for years. Lewis had been conceived there and spent the first years of his life there. So much had happened. But it was the overwhelming bad memories that had finally pushed them out.

Cal slid behind the driver's wheel of his own car and started the engine. He followed the path his wife took and caught up to her soon enough. A small hand appeared in the back window, waving. Cal could see Lewis attempting to turn in his seat to see him. He waved back enthusiastically, despite the fact Lewis wouldn't be able to see him. But some people passing him did; he ignored the strange expressions thrown in his direction. The hand kept up for a long time and then disappeared. Twenty minutes later they pulled up at their new house.

It had taken them over six months to find somewhere they both liked. What that really meant was Cal pretended he liked any of the places Gillian had shown him until they found the one that Gillian gave off more subtle markers for happiness towards. That was the one he said he liked the most. And she had beamed and said she loved it too. She probably knew he had read her but she didn't say. He wanted her to be happy and she was happy with that house so it was a win win.

The furniture truck had already arrived. Lewis bounded from the car and through the front door before Cal had even stopped to park on the street. He grabbed a box out of the back as he moved to follow his son. The moving guys were opening the back of the truck and Gillian was standing nearby to direct where she wanted the furniture to go. Cal found Lewis in his bedroom at the back of the house.

"This my room?" Lewis asked him as he came in.

Cal put the box on the ground. "Yep buddy this is your new room." Lewis approached him so Cal picked him up. He went to the window and looked out at the back yard. "Do you like it?" Like: starting with his hand flat against his chest and moving it away, while bringing his thumb and middle finger together, leaving the other fingers extended.

Lewis nodded. He threw his hands out wide to show just how much, which was 'a lot'. "Loverly," he told Cal and wriggled to be let down again.

Cal opened the box for him, which contained toys. "You stay here and play for a bit while we bring stuff inside all right?" 'Play' was 'Y' hands twisted at the wrist firmly a few times. Lewis nodded he would. Cal moved back through the house again to find Gillian. The moving guys were bringing in the dining room table. Gillian was outside bringing a box in from her car.

"Lewis?" She asked.

"Is playin' in his new room," Cal answered.

He had prepared himself for a long day but by the end of it they had got no further than moving all of their possessions to the new house. This was why they had taken the Friday from work and had the rest of the weekend to put everything away. It was going to be three days of intensive work. Who knew they had so much stuff!

**PJ**

"Lewis, come and help me put your bed togetha," Cal took him by the shoulders and turned him towards the door.

"But I want this one!" Lewis pointed up at the box on the bench containing the coloured glass vases Gillian was placing in the fading light of the conservatory. The sun room had been a big plus for Gillian. The entire house had been built orientated around the sun, so that every room was bathed in it at least once a day. The living area in the front, the conservatory and the master bedroom got all day sun. That was another big factor in her loving this house.

Cal kept Lewis moving despite his protests. "I need your big muscles," Cal told him. "And then we can put your new sheets on the bed." Lewis resisted a little less. His new sheets were T-Rex's and he was very excited about them. But he had to be a good boy on moving day to get them in the new place. So much bribery.

Cal guided Lewis down the hall to his new room. It was a mess, but then so was every other room in the house. His bed was in pieces in the middle of the floor, the ends separated from the base and all Cal had to do was screw them back together again. His mattress was leaning against the wall. Stacked up in four piles were the boxes with his name on them. His wardrobe was wide open and another box was sitting in the middle of the doorway. Lewis raced into his room and bounced off the mattress against the wall. He fell to the floor in a heap. "Careful!" Cal admonished. "It could fall on you." Fall: was the two fingers of his dominant hand pressed into the upturned palm of his left hand, then he moved them off again, turning the fingers upside down, like humpty dumpty falling off his wall. Not that it would hurt much, it was only a mattress after all.

Lewis looked up at him from where he was rolling around on the floor. Cal pulled the screwdrivers from his pocket. "Here," he offered them to Lewis while he took the bag of bed parts off one of the stacks of boxes. He gave them to Lewis as well. Then he moved the ends of the bed into line with the base and went to one corner. Lewis approached him and crouched down close by.

"All right," Cal turned to him. He lined up the two pieces. "Give me the wooden bits." He didn't have to explain because Lewis had helped him to take the bed apart and put all the pieces into the bag.

Lewis fumbled as he pried the bag open and dived inside. He rustled around for ages. Cal waited patiently. "Got one!" Lewis announced. He signed 'got' with one hand before handing the item over to his father.

"Thank you," Cal took it from him. He placed the dowel into the right slot and waited for the next one. After that he received a screw. "Pass me the screwdriver please." Please: rubbing his right hand in a circle over his chest in a clockwise direction.

"This one?" Lewis asked. He gave a vague gesture for 'this' because he was also handing the tool over to his father at the same time.

"No, the other one," Cal told him. Lewis switched the flat-head for the pozi-drive. Cal thanked him again and quickly screwed the fixation device into place. Then Cal moved to the other end of the same side of that bed and went through the same process.

"I do one," Lewis interjected.

"All right. Come ova here," Cal moved to the other side of the base. He inserted the dowels and lifted the base to the bed. He told Lewis to get a screw and put it in place. Lewis leaned in with the screwdriver. Cal guided the tip of it to the head. He gave it several twists with his fingers to get it started and stable and let Lewis make small turns until it got to the point where it was too difficult.

Lewis gave a grunt. "Haf to nuse my muscles."

"Yep."

"Uh!" Lewis gave a groan. "It's very hard."

"Yeah," Cal agreed. "My turn now?"

"Ok," Lewis handed over the pozi-drive.

Cal drove the screw into the wood until the head was flush. "Last one." He scooted his butt along the carpet to the other end. Lewis had the dowels ready so Cal held the end of the base for him while he inserted them into the correct holes. Then Lewis helped Cal to lift the last corner of the end to the base. The dowels held the weight but Lewis acted like he was stressing under the strain. Cal drove the screw home and announced it was finished.

"Finished!" Lewis straightened up. He twisted his open hands towards and away from himself a few times.

Cal held up his hand. Lewis slapped his palm against his father's in a 'high five'. "Good job," Cal told him. Good: pressing the finger tips of his right hand against his lips, then bringing them down to rest on his upheld left palm. Job: a 'J' gesture ending in an upturned palm. "Where would you like to put your bed?"

Lewis looked at him unsure. Cal pointed to the corner. "Ova there." He pointed to the other corner. "Or ova there?"

"That one," Lewis pointed to the first corner.

Cal pushed the single bed in the right direction. "This way or this way," he gestured to show which wall the bed could rest against.

"Um," Lewis pretended to think.

"This way," Cal decided. He didn't want Lewis to actually sleep under the window. He would play with the curtains when it was bed time but mostly it was that sometimes there was a draft and he didn't want him to get a chill during the winter.

"Yeah this way," Lewis agreed and helped his father push the frame into place.

"Then we put the mattress on," Cal told him as he turned for it. He put the mattress into place and picked up Lewis, throwing him down gently on top of it. "And then the tickle monsta gets you!"

Lewis screeched with delight and kicked and squirmed trying to get away. Cal dodged a flying hand and wiggled his fingers against Lewis's side, then into his armpits and then around the back of his knees. Lewis laughed so hard he reached the point where Cal wasn't sure he was breathing. He let him go and got up off the bed to find Gillian standing in the doorway. She immediately gave him a smile.

"What brings you to these parts?" Cal inquired as he crossed the room to the stacks of boxes, looking for the one labelled 'bed'.

"The noise," Gillian responded lightly.

Lewis was still breathing heavily and occasionally laughing to himself. He turned himself over to kick his feet against the wall.

"Tickle monsta attack," Cal noted casually as if he were merely an observer.

"It was the silence that worried me," Gillian corrected. Cal looked over at her. "Usually means trouble."

"Nah, we were workin' hard is all."

"You're so cute with him."

Cal's attention was suddenly on her, not the boxes. She got closer to where he was standing. When she was within an arms length she wrapped hers around his waist and stepped into his body. She squeezed his ass and his eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" He asked.

"Yeah," she nodded. "Very cute."

"That's not quite what I was askin'."

"I know," Gillian responded simply. She leaned in to kiss him.

"Tonight?" Cal's eyes were still wide in question.

"Wasn't there something about christening our new room?"

"Bed time Lewis!"


	9. Chapter 9

A beeping brought Gillian out of her day dream. She looked over at Cal but he hadn't moved. Of course he hadn't moved. Two whole days and not even a blink of his eyelids. Sure he made noises but then so did Lewis in his sleep. Come to think of it, Lewis's eyes also moved in his sleep. This was like dealing with a Cal made of stone. He was on his side at the moment, the nursing staff moved him so he wouldn't form pressure sores. When Gillian came back from lunch she had got a shock to see him facing the other way. She had automatically thought he had turned over of his own volition. And then reality had slowly sunk in and she realised that no, it must have been his carers. He couldn't move on his own at this point.

The beeping was the IV indicating one of the medicines Cal was on had run out. Within seconds of it starting up, before Gillian could even think to buzz for a nurse, Jay came into the room with the next one. All of Cal's monitors were also displayed at the station where Jay worked. He had three other patients in his care too. One of them was the result of a car wreck and demanded far more of his time than the comatose Cal. Jay changed over the IV and reattached it to Cal's drip. He gave Gillian a smile on his way out again. Was she such a familiar presence there that he was comfortable with silence now?

She had been there from dawn until dusk for two days straight. There had been no change with Cal. Aside from communicating with Emily, she had managed to shut out the rest of the world. When she told Ria that she would call her with news, Ria actually respected that and waited for Gillian to contact her. There had been enough family emergencies in the Lightman clan for the younger woman to respect Gillian's command for space. They knew how to carry on without supervision and Gillian trusted them enough to not set the building on fire or cripple the Lightman Group into bankruptcy in forty-eight hours.

But Gillian wasn't sure what to do. She even had a hard time trying to let Lewis in on the situation. She didn't want to deliver bad news to anyone, let alone her son, if Cal was going to wake up in a few days. And then what if he didn't? What if he di... She stopped that thought quickly, choking mentally on the word. Her body flushed while her face suddenly felt cold. That was fear. Raw fear. She wanted to race out of the room and keep on running until she couldn't remember what it was that she wanted to escape from. She tucked her hand into Cal's wishing she could draw some strength from him. He would know what to do. He would make the right decision. He would bring her so much comfort if he would just open his damn eyes.

Gillian took a deep steadying breath and then skipped the next one. Cal started to shake. The shakes turned to shudders. Alarms started going off as he convulsed fiercely. Gillian shot to her feet, panic blocking her voice from making a sound. It didn't matter. Jay was there within seconds. He pulled Cal over on to his back and simultaneously reached for the call button, pressing it three times in quick succession. Another nurse appeared in the doorway and quickly made their way over to the bed. Cal's violent tremors were enough to lift his head from the bed. Gillian could see a grimace on his features. A doctor arrived and she was finally shoved out of the way while the medical team worked. The doctor called for various drugs to be pushed through the IV.

Eventually Cal calmed down. But Gillian didn't. She didn't even know she was crying until Jay came to comfort her. He soothed her and told her Cal was all right now. The doctor came to introduce himself as the ICU shift doctor and explain that Cal had had a mild tonic-clonic seizure, that it was common in coma patients and that he was being treated with a benzodiazepine to try and prevent another. They would use it carefully because it had the potential to alter Cal's rate of breathing and lower his blood pressure, two things Gillian already knew Cal's neurologist, Doctor Rockwell, did not want to happen. How could they treat him with something so conflicting? Where was the line of balance? It scared Gillian more. There were no certainties, nothing tangible to hold on to; no way of holding on to hope.

**PJ**

Gillian needed a plan. She needed help. A physical therapist arrived shortly after the seizure to take Cal through some basic movements designed to keep his blood flowing and not allow his muscles to deteriorate too much with disuse. Plus, he had a hip fracture that needed to heal properly, and seeing as he couldn't walk around on it on his own, the therapy was the next best thing. Gillian took that moment to slip out and make phone calls. She didn't get that far though. She ducked into a bathroom and sat on the closed lid of a toilet in one of the cubicles and silently cried her heart out. When she was alone she let a few sobs escape but mostly she held it in. It was not the release she needed but she did feel better for it afterward. She sat for a while thinking. She hadn't done laundry in a while. Or gone food shopping. She needed to start doing some of those every day things instead of spending all her time at the hospital. She still had obligations to their family and to their business. Cal would understand; he would insist if he could. It wasn't like he missed her when she was gone. That thought made her feel sick. Was that being cruel? Or just accurate?

Gillian blew her nose with toilet paper. She already had a wad of it in her hand that she had been wiping her eyes with. At the sink she saw herself in the mirror and was shocked. She looked terrible. She hadn't even put make up on that morning. And she didn't remember not doing it. Putting make up on had been a part of her morning routine since she was seventeen. She wondered what else she was forgetting to do. She did make Lewis's lunch that morning right? She was pretty sure she had.

Gillian washed her face with cold water and let the shock of it against her flushed face rush through her. She needed to focus, she needed to plan and she needed to make this work. She wanted to spend time with Cal, she needed to, she didn't want to worry and wonder about him when she wasn't there, but she also needed to be there for Lewis and allocate time for work obligations. Then there was Emily and the other mundane normal routines, like laundry, food, paying bills. Finding Cal's car. Oh she had to get gas too! She told herself to do it on the way home. She needed to stop waiting for Cal, to stop relying on him. She needed to be able to do this on her own, to make the decisions that needed to be made. Gillian found some make up in her bag and applied it lightly. She studied herself in the mirror again. She looked determined now. Good.

The first thing she did was call Ria at work. It was clear the younger woman was relieved to hear from Gillian. Her first question was to ask how Cal was. Gillian thought back to that morning, the grimace of discomfort on his features as his body seized out of his control and swallowed down a lump in her throat that made everything feel awkward. "He's stable," she replied, which was partly true. "But there's no change in his condition. We're waiting for a few more days to go by to know more."

"Well that's good that he's not getting worse," Ria quickly found something to be positive about.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed. But she didn't want to talk about Cal because it made her feel funny inside, anxious mostly, but also too aware of how much she wanted to go into his room and shake him by the shoulders and tell him to just wake the hell up. "Listen, I need you to do me a favour."

"We're already looking into it," Ria interrupted. "Aiden arrested Malrose. He confessed to the sabotage. Aiden's just waiting to see what happens with Cal before he lays charges."

That did not bring Gillian any comfort at all.

"He wanted to come by and talk to you but I headed him off."

"Thank you," Gillian murmured. Life had been going on around her while she had been stuck in the bubble of Cal's bedside.

"You weren't there so I figured you wouldn't really know anything. He called the hospital to speak to Cal's doctor anyway... about, you know."

Gillian knew. About whether there would be a manslaughter charge.

"There was no reason to disturb you."

Gillian thanked her again. Well that was at least one thing off her mind; the man who had done this to Cal was behind bars. "Cal's car?" Gillian started.

"Oh yeah, uh, Aiden said it was impounded by the police before he could get to it. I said I'd let you know where it was so you could go and get it? I can go and get it," she offered quickly.

'_Cal's keys_,' Gillian thought. They would be with his property wouldn't they? That was something else she needed to think about. And his phone. And his wallet. The clothes... she had seen the state of them on him in the emergency room. She hoped they had simply gone into the trash.

"Loker and I can go down and sort it out," Ria offered again.

"Uh," Gillian thought. "His keys. I don't know where they are." She hesitated. "But I have a spare at the house. So I'll go home and get it and drop it off."

"I can come to you."

'_Too many options_,' Gillian thought to herself. And no clear path through it. Any ideas that led her away from Cal for more than half an hour made her feel so uneasy she knew it wasn't healthy. What she wanted was an assurance that he would be ok if she left for just a little while. "Let me call you back," Gillian said into the phone and hung it up. She found Ajay's number in her cell phone and dialled it on the pay phone.

"Hello?" He answered neutrally.

"Ajay, it's Gillian."

"Oh hey," he was surprised. "How are you?" He asked awkwardly.

"I'm fine, listen, I really need you to do me a favour."

"Whatever you need," he responded easily.

"I need you to bring Emily up to the hospital. She needs to see Cal and he needs to know she's here."

"Is he awake?"

"No," Gillian answered after an awkward beat. "But..." but what? She had nothing else.

"Yeah her avoiding going up there isn't a good idea," Ajay saved the conversation.

"Thank you. This evening ok?"

"She has a class finishing in half an hour."

"That would be perfect. I need to sort some things out and I don't want to..." she stopped. It sounded so silly. She didn't want to leave Cal alone. He wasn't alone. He was surrounded by people.

"Yeah of course. We can come up and sit with him for a while," Ajay sounded more determined now.

"Thank you," Gillian said again.

"Hey look, if there's anything else. You know. Just call."

Gillian let that sink in. She wasn't alone either. She was surrounded by people who cared for her. And Cal. "For now, I just need you to look after Emily for me. Bring her up to the hospital. Make sure she talks or something. She should deal with..."

"I know. I keep telling her that. I'm not sure what to do though."

"We can talk about it later."

"That would be great," Ajay sounded relieved. "We'll see you soon."

Gillian ended that call feeling more focused than before. So she had someone to sit with Cal covered and she could then go to get his car key and take it to work where Ria would organise getting his car back. That was two things off her list. What else did she need to sort? She phoned Aiden. His phone went to voicemail. She left a message. She just wanted to check in with him. There was no change with Cal. But Gillian felt she should keep the police detective informed. He was working favours for her on his end. It was better that she knew what was going on and the vice versa. In case something changed...

What was next? Cal's personal property. Gillian relinquished the phone, considering herself lucky no one else had wanted to use it and interrupt her. She was certainly not the only worried family member hovering around these hallways, not that she'd had the heart to talk to anyone else. Gillian approached the nurses' station in the centre of the intensive care unit. A young woman was there. "Hi," she gave Gillian a smile.

"Julia," Gillian finally recalled her name. "I was wondering. Cal's personal property."

"Oh I can get that for you," Julia was immediately on her feet.

"If you're busy," Gillian tried to convey it wasn't important.

"Not a problem. Won't be a minute," she turned and headed out of her little booth. She went down the hallway out of sight and Gillian studied the monitor that was a replica of the one in Cal's room. She read off his heart rate, oxygen stats and blood pressure easily, noting that while the numbers were slightly too high for normal, they were his unique brand of what she should expect.

Julia was back within a minute with a large, brown, heavy-duty, paper bag in her arms. "Here you go."

"Thanks."

"If you're going to throw anything out, make sure you use the biohazard disposal bins," she added and Gillian caught her meaning immediately. She dreaded all over again having to deal with what was contained inside the crackly paper. She gave a nod in acknowledgement and took the parcel back to her husband's room, so she could rifle through his things in private.

When she entered Cal's room she was surprised to see him on the other side now. And of course she had remind herself that no, he hadn't rolled himself, someone had moved him. The physical therapist was gone and the first thing she did was check his monitor, check the white board where more of his information was displayed, and then check his face. No changes. Gillian picked up her chair and moved it to the other side of the bed, the one that made her nervous because it was home to his IV lines and ventilator machine. She worried that she would knock something out. Gillian leaned down to give Cal's forehead a kiss. And that was when she noticed the blood.


	10. Chapter 10

"I don't want it!" Lewis yelled.

"I'm not arguin' with you," Cal pulled the sheet from his son's grasp. "It's goin' on the bed."

"No!"

"Yes," Cal insisted, pulling the corner down over the edge of the mattress. "Until you're a big boy."

"I am big boy!" Lewis wailed.

"I know," Cal's heart finally caved. He sat on the crackly plastic sheet and pulled Lewis into his arms to hug him. "You are a big boy."

"Big boys don't have that," Lewis pointed at the sheet in disgust.

"No they don't," Cal agreed. But he still needed it because he still wet the bed sometimes. "It's only for a little while longa," Cal tried.

"No!" Lewis cried again attempting to shove Cal away from him.

"For Mum?" Cal asked him. "So your bed doesn't get wet and then Mum doesn't have to clean it?"

Lewis barely listened. '_Damn_,' Cal thought. If he couldn't trump the guilty mother card he didn't have a lot left in his arsenal. He couldn't even bribe Lewis with something new or different or exciting. They had moved today. That was plenty exciting, and the new bed sheets were already unfolded ready to go on. Lewis gave a sudden screech and kicked Cal in the stomach. "Bloody hell," he cursed under his breath and let the squirming three year old go. Lewis fell to his knees and screeched at the carpet.

A second later Gillian appeared in the doorway again. "What's going on?" She asked neutrally.

"Havin' a wee issue with the bed sheet," Cal got to his feet, giving his abdomen a rub. He wondered if that was going to bruise. It felt like it would.

Gillian watched him for a moment. "Are you tagging out?"

"Yes," Cal went to Lewis's drawers and pulled one open to finish putting his son's clothes away.

"Lewis," Gillian crossed to the bed where the boy was now heaping the plastic sheet up into a ball within his small embrace. He threw the bundle and she caught it easily. "Listen to me," she signed to him; her tone was also all business. Lewis got a little quieter. "You have to have this sheet on your bed, until you go to the toilet at night before sleep, and in the morning when you wake up, and not in your bed."

"No!" Lewis threw at her.

"Yes," she told him firmly. "Do you want your bed to get yucky?"

Lewis hesitated. He understood what 'yucky' meant. He didn't like 'yucky' things.

"Just for a little while," Gillian added moving to put the sheet on his bed.

"No," Lewis tried one last feeble protest. He sat on the mattress abruptly and kicked at the sheet. Gillian ignored him so he tried again.

"Stop that," she told him sharply, signing the words with just as much emphasis. He pouted and acquiesced but didn't move as Gillian pulled the plastic sheeting down over the corners of the mattress. She turned to reach for the flannel fitted sheet with the large T-Rex in the middle. Lewis continued to sit defiantly. So Gillian attached that sheet around him as well. And then suddenly it was a game. She slipped pillow cases and threw the cushions at him. He giggled and threw one back. She heaved it one last time and then instructed him to put it where he wanted to sleep.

Lewis crawled over the bed to place his pillow. Gillian threw the sheet out over his head and ignored his squirming as he fought his way out of it again. "Lie down," Gillian told him as she gathered the sheet up again and threw it wide so it floated down on him like a giant parachute.

"It's a cave!" Lewis announced gleefully.

Gillian did it one last time and then reached for the thicker covers. Cal had already put the blankets inside the cover ready to go. "Lie down," Gillian told Lewis. She picked up the blanket and threw it over him. He laughed and shot his arms into the sky so the blanket fell away from his face. Gillian moved to the foot of the bed to tuck the sheet in and readjust the top blankets. Lewis gave a sigh and closed his eyes. "Aw are you sleepy?" Gillian asked him.

"Shh," Lewis gave a frown. "Sleepy."

"Cal," Gillian stage whispered. He already had an amused smile on his face. He was in the wardrobe now, hanging up a jacket. "Lewis has gone to sleep."

"That's lovely," Cal responded. He approached the bed where Lewis was smiling broadly with his eyes closed. He leaned down to plant a series of kisses along Lewis's cheek and to his ear. Lewis laughed and gave Cal's head a hug. But he kept his eyes closed. Cal moved away and this time Gillian leaned in to give him kisses.

"Sweet dreams Lewis," she told him.

"Bye Mum," Lewis kept his eyes closed still.

Cal gestured they should go to the door and Gillian gave a nod of acknowledgement. "See you in the mornin'," Cal called. They pulled the door almost closed and started to walk away. Cal caught Gillian's wrist and pushed her gently against the hallway wall. He nuzzled her neck and she gave a contented sigh, her fingers finding their way through the hair at the base of his neck. "You're so very cute with him," Cal told her.

"You're not allowed to use my lines on me," Gillian admonished pushing him away slightly so she could see his face.

"Since when has that rule been in force?"

"Since now."

"Lovely," Cal muttered. They heard Lewis's bedroom door open.

"Surprise!" He shouted as he bounced out of his room.

"Good lord is it mornin' already?" Cal feigned shock.

Lewis laughed and raced over to them, barrelling into Cal's legs. He took his father's hand. "Let's go," he told him tugging towards the master bedroom. "Make your bed."

**PJ**

By the time it was Lewis's bedtime it was also Cal's. There were still a thousand boxes to unpack. It felt like they had barely made a dent on them all but at least the furniture was in place. Including the new pieces Gillian had picked out to fill the extra little nooks this house had with its sun orientated design. Gillian had gone to check on Lewis and Cal was settling under the covers of their bed. They were new too, and felt lovely and fresh against his bare skin.

Gillian entered the room quickly and closed the door behind her. She almost bounded across the room before jumping on the bed and on to her husband. "Good lord," Cal complained.

Gillian leaned down for a searing kiss. "He's asleep," she whispered before kissing him again.

"How asleep?"

"Out of it, exhausted, asleep," Gillian clarified. She fought her way under the covers while continuing to straddle across Cal's abdomen.

"Lovely knew sheets."

Gillian gave him a smile as she readjusted them around her back.

"Certainly need breakin' in."

Gillian's smile turned to a grin. She wiggled her eyebrows at him, like Lewis did, like Cal did. Cal laughed and she leaned down to kiss him again. His hands found their way to her ass and thighs, squeezing and feeling.

"And then there's the shag for the new bed," Gillian murmured.

"And the room," Cal added between the next kiss.

"And the house?" Gillian tried.

"Lovely," Cal responded.

"The bathroom, the shower, the kitchen table."

"Good lord," Cal complained again. "I hope you're gonna let me breathe in between."

Gillian kissed him deeply, her fingers forcing a space between his head and the pillow so they could caress through the soft hair there. "Briefly," Gillian responded with a grin.

Cal gave a growl and tightened his grip on her. Gillian laughed lightly in response. "Gonna have a very busy weekend," Cal noted.

"Very," Gillian agreed.

**PJ**

"I have terrible news."

"Good lord," Cal looked up alarmed. He could read off her face that she was using the phrase as a figure of speech, not a literal interpretation of how she felt. "That's an awful way to open convasation."

Gillian took a seat opposite his desk and slumped down into it looking defeated. Cal raised an eyebrow, a silent question: 'what is the terrible news?'

"My mother just called to inform me that they're moving back to Virginia."

"Oh," Cal sat back in his seat. "That's not terrible is it? You wanted them to be close-a so they didn't miss out on seein' Lewis; so he could see them."

"Yes I did want that," Gillian agreed. "But somehow with them it always feels as if there are hidden strings I should be wary of tripping over."

Cal gave her a little frown. "How does them movin' back here trip you up?"

"There'll be something," Gillian mused lightly.

Cal studied her across his desk. "When did you become such a pessimist? I thought you were the optimistic one?"

"So did I," Gillian gave a sigh. "I think it's just a parent's thing."

"Right," Cal said though it was clear by the tone of his voice that he didn't agree. Both of his were deceased.

"Sometimes I just prefer that it's you and me."

Cal leaned forward again to rest his elbow on his desk and his chin on his upturned hand. "I like that too," he told her softly. "A lot. But you have family and they come with obligations. It's hard to ignore family when they're in the same general vicinity."

"I know," Gillian sighed again. She already spent far too little time with her brother and her sister-in-law, someone who used to be a close friend. "I don't always like letting other people into our world."

Cal gave her a slight smile. "Want to keep me all to yourself?"

"Yes," Gillian answered directly.

"What about Eli and Ria? Paul?"

"That's different."

"Oh?" Cal queried.

"They're chosen family."

"Ah I see."

"Don't judge me," Gillian pouted.

"I'm not. I'm tryin' to undastand you."

Gillian gave a slight smile.

"When are they movin'?"

Gillian gave a slight shrug. "Not sure. When they find a house I guess."

"It would be great for Lewis to spend some propa time with his grandparents."

And Gillian knew he wanted Lewis to be around his family, which was why he had been so delighted when Emily had finally moved back home. For a man who had spent so long running from his, she found it interesting that he was trying to embrace family now. She hadn't figured out why yet. And she didn't want to ask him. She wanted to figure it out, to understand _him_.

"He would like that," Gillian conceded. She moved to get to her feet.

Cal got up quickly and came around his desk. He put his arms around her and Gillian melted in to him. Was it possible to love someone too much? Because sometimes it felt like that with him. That she could get lost within him. As Cal pulled back he gave her a quick kiss. "I gotta go out."

"Got an interview lined up?" Gillian assumed.

"No, a haircut."

She gave him a sudden amused smile. "Really?"

"Yeah, why is that so funny?" He reached across his desk for his phone.

"It's not like you to sneak out of work in the middle of the day to go and do something personal."

Cal gave a slight grin. "Well, my daughta is gettin' married in a few days, so I think it warrants some personal time durin' work hours."

"True," Gillian agreed.

"Walk me out?"

"Ok," she agreed easily.

Cal held her hand as they walked across his office but let it go as he let her move through the doorway first. In the corridor, he didn't take it again, but walked close by her side, so that with every few steps he would brush into her arm. That was his way of being affectionate in public. It was cute in its own way. At the door he gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She gave him a smile in return and told him she would see him later. Right?

"Right," Cal agreed and pushed on the door to exit.

**PJ**

"What do you think?"

"Very nice," Gillian responded, eyeing him up as he stood before her. It was the same haircut, just tidier and a little shorter. The sides of his hair were so light now that when the hairs were cut short like they were now it looked silver.

"Lewis?" Cal turned to where he was sitting at the breakfast bar.

Lewis placed an 'eight' hand to his lips and drew it away from his head and into the air with a satisfied smile on his face. Gillian started laughing. "What was that?" Cal asked him approaching to give Lewis a light tickle on his sides. Lewis squealed and squirmed away from him while going back to working on an audio game Stephanie had lent him for a few days. "What was it?" Cal asked Gillian.

She giggled again. "Lewis," she gave him a nudge. "I agree," she signed 'agree' by pointing to her head and then bringing her other hand up to point with both hands at Lewis, while giving a firm nod of her head. He gave her a grin. Gillian got up so Cal caught her arms and pulled her against his chest. He leaned in to kiss her gently. "What are you two gigglin' about?" He shifted to plant kisses along her jaw to her ear. "Don't make me google it."

"He signed 'delicious'," Gillian's eyes glinted at him in amusement.

Cal smiled. "Smart ass," he muttered and let her go again.

"Did you pick your suit up?"

"Not yet."

"Cal," Gillian started.

"I ran out of time," he held up a hand to forestall. "But I will go on my way to work tomorrow, first thing. I'm not gonna not get it."

Gillian gave him one of those expressions that said she was making fun of him.

"It's my daughta's weddin', of course I'm not gonna forget to get my suit."

Gillian gave him an expression that said 'ok, whatever you say'.

"Oi," Cal stepped towards her again and smothered her in kisses. "Do you want me to tickle you to death?"

"That would only work if I was ticklish," Gillian responded, half heartedly trying to fend off his exploring hands. They sent little thrills through her. Those little thrills were too hard to ignore sometimes and she felt this was one of those dangerous times.

Cal saw something in her eyes that he liked. He pulled her close and planted a kiss fully on her lips. Her hands snaked through his closely cropped hair as she pressed her body against his. He gave a little growl that made her only kiss him harder. If Lewis wasn't in the room, he was sure she would have slipped him some tongue. She might have suggested they go to the bedroom. But not with Lewis awake and in the house.

Cal pulled away and disentangled their hands from each other's bodies. "So? What's for dinna? I'm starvin'."

**PJ**

_AN: M section_

Cal's hips pressed into Gillian's and she shifted to feel the friction better. She shivered as the delightful ripples spread through her body. Her grip tightened on Cal a little and he gave a little grunt between pressing kisses against her neck. Gillian pushed at his shoulders until he turned over. "What?" He asked startled.

"What?" Gillian repeated, pulling the sheet out of the way. She climbed over his hips and slid down on to him. He gave a low moan. "I'm not allowed to be on top occasionally?"

"No," he gasped. "You absolutely are." His hands found her hips and rocked her towards him so she fell on to his chest. His fingers smoothed up her back as his hips pushed against hers. Gillian pushed back with her hips, complimenting his movement. Cal gave another moan and swore under his breath.

"Do you feel like we're rushing?" Gillian asked him letting pull her towards him again. She pressed against his shoulders.

"Rushin' what?" Cal asked confused. He let her shift her hips backwards before pulling her forcefully forward again.

"This," Gillian breathed.

"Huh?"

"Sex."

"Oh," Cal let her hips go and shifted to her breasts while he lifted himself from the pillow to kiss her neck again. "What do you mean rushin' it?"

"I just feel like... we fall into a..." she stopped abruptly.

"Aw go on," Cal encouraged. "You started now."

"I'm not complaining."

"Noted," Cal sat up further and shifted his legs so he could sit, spread eagled on the bed, Gillian in his lap. "Tell me. You're not happy with our sex life anymore?"

"It's not that I'm unhappy."

"I don't do it for you anymore?"

"Are you kidding me?" Gillian looked down at him, her arms around his shoulders in an embrace. She kept her hips rocking gently.

"Then it's?"

"Routine."

"Oh yeah that," Cal looked up at her for a moment. "We're married."

"Doesn't mean sex has to be routine."

"We have a kid."

Gillian didn't have a response to that one.

"Do I bore you in bed?" Cal asked gently.

"No, you know you don't."

"Lie-a, lie-a," Cal sing-songed gently. He turned her carefully so she was lying back against the mattress again. They shifted around legs and arms to reposition. Cal leaned in to her neck, to whisper in her ear. "I can make more effort."

"I'm really not blaming you for anything," Gillian tried.

"What I hear you sayin' to me is that you want more excitement in our sex life," Cal murmured as he kissed her neck, her ear, her throat. He thrust his hips into hers and a moan escaped her lips.

"Yes," she whispered. "Please."

"Cos the spontaneity was the hottest sex of our life."

"Yes," Gillian moaned again.

"I think we should do it at work."

"What!?" Her eyes flew open as he drew back to look at her.

"Yes," Cal nodded. "At the office. On your desk. Always been a fantasy of mine."

"No!" Gillian protested.

"Yes," he nodded again. "Think about it." He pushed against her a little harder, watching the fantasy unfold behind her eyes. "Think how dirty it would be. How hot?"

Gillian gave a moan, her hands gripped his waist pulling him closer as he pumped against her.

"Think about the thrill of it."

She opened her mouth to breathe harder as Cal carefully wound her up.

"Every time you look at your desk what are you gonna think of?"

"You," Gillian groaned.

"And?"

"Me."

"Yeah?" Cal prompted roughly. He was close. "Tell me." And he was hoping she would say something filthy.

"You fucking me," Gillian blurted.

"That's right," Cal confirmed as he pushed into her again.

"Harder," Gillian demanded. Cal complied, again and again and again until he felt his body trembling. "Harder!" Gillian begged. Cal could feel her trembling too. "Harder," she whined.

Cal managed two more powerful thrusts to send her over the edge. He felt the ripples of her pleasure course through her and wash over him. He embraced them and the feel of her. Their sex life was plenty spicy for him. But if she wanted more, then he would give her more.


	11. Chapter 11

Jay was there within seconds of Gillian pressing the button. "He's bleeding," she pointed to his mouth where a trickle had leaked out between his lips.

Jay quickly pulled on latex gloves and turned Cal's head firmly to get a better look. He used a gauze pad to wipe away the blood and then used a little light to check inside Cal's mouth. Gillian had backed up out of the way, so far she was almost against the wall and she felt bad, but a part of her wanted to just run and get away from all of it as fast as possible. She wanted to disappear into the wall and wake up from the nightmare. "What is it?" She asked with a tremor in her tone.

Jay turned to look at her over his shoulder. He gave her a reassuring smile. He probably dealt with shaky family members every day. "It looks like the intubation tube rubbed the side of his throat raw a little during the seizure."

"Oh," Gillian said in reaction to the explanation but it by no means made her feel better knowing. It made her think about why he was bleeding and seizures were not a good sign, even if they were common in coma patients.

Jay cleaned Cal up further and readjusted the plastic on his face that held the tube in place. He put Cal's head back on to its side and watched him for a moment to make sure he was ok. "I'll make a note of it," Jay spoke. Gillian wondered if he was talking to her or Cal. He talked to Cal often, like it was no big deal.

There was a knock on the doorframe and Gillian looked over to see Ajay. He held Emily by the hand and she was standing slightly behind him. Gillian quickly pulled herself together and crossed the room to usher them inside. She thanked a god that she had spotted the blood before the younger woman arrived. She introduced Jay quickly. He whipped of his latex gloves quickly to shake hands. "I'll leave you guys to it," he spoke to Gillian. "Buzz me if you need me," the meaning clear.

She nodded and thanked him politely and then put an arm around Emily and guided her around the bed to the side Cal was facing. She pushed her down in to the seat and looked again to make sure there was no more blood. Cal seemed fine. Ok he wasn't fine but there wasn't blood trickling and when he lay on this side, it wasn't possible to see the bandage holding his head together, or the full impact of the bruising on that side of his face.

"Let him know that you're here," Gillian instructed gently.

"Hey Dad," Emily responded. "It's Em." She looked up at Gillian. "Can I touch him?"

"Of course," Gillian answered warmly.

Emily reached out tentatively for his hand. "Oh he's warm," she noted surprised.

Gillian turned to Ajay and mouthed a 'thank you'. He gave a nod. Gillian went to get her purse and the property bag that had been discarded hastily at the end of Cal's bed. "I won't be long," she told him on her way out. He gave another nod and moved to stand beside his wife.

**PJPJPJPJ**

Gillian headed down the corridor to a quieter section with one of the obvious red biohazard bins. She broke the seal on Cal's property bag and opened it up, holding her breath against the smell of dust and blood. She pulled out his clothes from the top and dumped the lot into the bin. She didn't even want to go through them. She hoped the medical staff had emptied the pockets. She wondered if anything had even managed to say in his pockets during the accident.

In the bottom of the bag were the smaller items Gillian was hoping were there. Cal's phone, his wallet, his car keys, a plastic swipe card for something. It was unmarked. Gillian put his things in her purse and threw the bag into a trash receptacle. She headed for the elevator next and pushed for the down button. She pulled Cal's phone out again while she waited. The screen was blank. She swiped a thumb across the window but it didn't come to life. She tried turning it on but nothing happened. She gave it a little shake, but nothing rattled around inside. Maybe it hadn't been damaged. Maybe the battery was just flat.

From the hospital, Gillian went to the Lightman Group. Before she pushed the door open she steeled herself for the onslaught she was going to have to endure. She wished Cal was by her side; it was so much easier to face everything with him there. She got half way to the reception desk before she was spotted and the questioning began. They wanted updates on Cal's condition. Most of what they knew had been rumour and vague details from a nurse, who was willing to believe that Ria was a family member, when Cal had been in surgery.

Gillian moved the crowd to the conference room and explained what she knew, which to be honest, wasn't much. Cal had a brain injury. They were waiting for the end of the week to see what would happen next. So far, it was a waiting game. There was nothing else his doctor's could do but try and keep the intracranial pressure steady or reducing. So far it was keeping steady. That was the only hope she could give them. She thanked them for their support and for the flowers and well wishes.

"Ria," Gillian signalled the end of the conversation and moved down the hallway to her office. Ria followed along. Gillian fished out Cal's keys and pried off the one for his car. "I would really appreciate it if you took Eli out to get Cal's car."

"Of course," the younger woman reached for what Gillian was offering her.

Gillian then gave her Cal's credit card. "For the charges."

Ria nodded and took that too. "How is he really?"

Gillian straightened up her chin and pushed her shoulders back. "Like I said, we're just waiting to see what happens next."

**PJ**

After leaving work again with a promise that she would check in with them again tomorrow, and maybe actually see what was happening with the business, Gillian stopped by the day care. It was earlier than usual to pick Lewis up but she didn't particularly fancy spending the afternoon on her own. She took him to the supermarket and let him help her pick out the items they needed for home. Of course most of his suggestions involved chocolate flavoured cereal and animal crackers but the way his face lit up when she suggested they get various other items, like toilet paper, made her heart feel lighter. Lewis was constantly cheerful. Cal told her all the time that their son took after her.

After that they went home. Lewis helped carry bags inside, dragging them down the hallway when his arms got tired. He insisted he could handle the heavy bags but Gillian wisely let him take the toilet paper and the bags of cereal. She didn't care how often he dropped those. She wasn't going to eat the crumbs of processed wheat.

"Mum I have this?" Lewis asked her as she reached up into the cupboard to put away cans.

"What is it?" She asked without turning around.

"Mum!" Lewis called louder. "I have this!"

Gillian faced him to see what he had. A banana. "Yes you can have that," she nodded.

Lewis immediately ripped in to it. He reached out his hand to give her the pieces of skin. "I don't want them," she told him. "Put them in the bin." She signed 'garbage' for bin (realising she had used the British-ism): moving her right index finger under her parallel to her body left arm, down and away to the left. Lewis went to the sink and pulled open the cupboard door to oblige.

After putting the food purchases away Gillian put a load of laundry into the machine. Lewis followed her around the house being 'helpy'. He insisted on carrying one side of the laundry basket from his bathroom and one side of the laundry basket from Cal and Gillian's. Gillian put Lewis's clothes in first. After she had set it to run the doorbell chimed. Lewis looked over at her as if he wasn't sure he had heard something or not.

"That was the door," Gillian confirmed for him, signing 'door': raising both hands in front of her like she was going to push something away, but using just her dominant hand to swing open one side of the imaginary door.

"Oh," Lewis looked excited and raced out of the room. Gillian could hear his feet thudding down the hall as he headed for the front door. She followed after him quickly and arrived in time to see him struggling to pull the much heavier barrier open.

"Hi Lewis," Ria greeted him with a smile. Behind him Eli was half turned, studying the neighbourhood.

"Hi," Gillian greeted coming up behind her son.

"Come in," Lewis reached out to tug on Ria's hand.

"We can't stay," she told him carefully, like so many adults when speaking to a child. She raised her gaze to Gillian and held out her hand with Cal's car key and credit card and the paper from the impound lot. "Aiden met us there so there was no problem getting it back."

"Thank you," Gillian was grateful as she took the items back. She could see Cal's black car parked in the driveway on the far side.

Eli hovered, made brief eye contact, raised his eyebrows to say 'hey, no big deal'. "If there's anything else we can do," Ria added.

Gillian gave her a smile. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," she dismissed.

Eli gave a brief wave before turning and heading down the steps. Ria said goodbye to Lewis and gave him a wave too as she turned to walk away. "Bye!" Lewis called, waving vigorously. "Bye."

"Let's go in," Gillian told Lewis placing her hand on his shoulder so he would look up to see what she was signing: 'in', placing the grouped fingertips of her dominant hand into the 'C' of her left hand, like she was placing something inside. She stepped back inside and turned away. Lewis slammed the door behind her. Gillian went to the kitchen and put Cal's car key back on the loop with the rest. His phone was also there amongst his things and she remembered she was going to charge it. She took it to the bedroom where his charger was plugged into the wall on his side of the bed.

Lewis followed after her and jumped on the mattress while she connected the device and switched it on at the wall. It lit up immediately, a battery icon coming up on the screen to show it was charging. Gillian turned it on and watched it go through its setup ritual. When it was on its usual screen she waited for any messages to come through. There was just one. And it was from her. She opened it without thinking.

**LUV U CAL. GLAD WEVE HAD 6 YEARS. LOOKIN 4WD 2 THE NEXT 6 EVEN MORE.**

And she started crying.

**PJ**

Suddenly it was the weekend and Gillian was at a loss for something to do. She was already used to going up to the hospital as part of her daily routine. But now it was Saturday and she couldn't take Lewis to day care. She still hadn't figured out when a good time was to take him to see his father but she conceded she should do it soon. He had stopped sniffing, which meant his cold must have cleared up properly now and she was running out of legitimate excuses. She couldn't keep him from his father forever. What if Cal was in a coma for several weeks? Would she let that amount of time go by without any contact? Lewis asked her periodically where his father was, when he was going to be better and when was he coming home? He caught her crying a few times and came to comfort her in his sweet little way. He asked her what was wrong but she didn't know what to say to him. She was torn between wanting her son around and sending him away so he wouldn't have to deal with her fall out. He wasn't even four yet. This was not something a nearly four year old should be burdened with.

Ajay rang her yesterday to let her know they were heading off again, but with Lewis home, happy and content, helping her hang washing out and later folding it, Gillian didn't make it back to the hospital. Now it had been twenty hours and she was itching to get back and check up on her husband. But what to do with Lewis? She could take him to Kate's she supposed, so he could spend more time with his cousins and then she realised she had a better option. Her parents.

She rang her mother, asked if she could bring Lewis by for a few hours. Her mother readily agreed of course. "It would be wonderful to have you."

"No," Gillian corrected. "Just Lewis. I have to..." she stopped and hesitated. She cursed her inability to come up with a lie on the spot. Usually she was pretty good at instant stories. "I have to take care of some things."

"Are you ok?" Her mother asked sounding concerned.

"Yes of course," Gillian lied.

"Is Cal working?"  
>Gillian mumbled some assent and quickly covered it by saying she would be around in half an hour.<p>

"You don't give much warning," her mother informed her.

"Yeah sorry. Something came up suddenly." She disconnected the call. "Lewis," she called to him where he lay against her pillow. Last night she had slept on Cal's side of the bed. She missed him. Lewis looked over at her. "Do you want to go and see grandma today?" The sign for grandma was similar to mother: the dominant hand open, with the thumb on the chin, but moving away in a small arch.

"Oh Grandma!" Lewis sat up excited. He returned the sign. "Get dessed," he added signing that as well before climbing out from beneath the bed covers. Gillian felt a pang in her stomach. It was so easy to keep him happy. He found joy in the smallest things sometimes. And it was even more impressive now with Cal missing and the moments when Lewis seemed so insecure. One of the most exciting events for Lewis was visiting family or having family come to visit. Hell he found it exciting when they went to visit anyone or anyone came to visit. How was she ever going to tell him his father might not ever come home? He wouldn't understand, and when he did, it would crush him. Gillian rolled over and buried her face into Cal's pillow. She breathed in the scent of his shampoo. Her stomach quivered. God she missed him so much!

It so wasn't fair this absence of his. How could this happen to them now? After Mitchell, had they not suffered enough? They had already had their fair share of forced absences. Gillian fought back a sob as tears escaped again.

'_Please bring him back to me_,' she begged is pillow. '_Please_.'

"Mum!" Lewis yelled from the door way. Gillian quickly wiped her eyes as he jumped over the bed to her. "Get dessed."

"Ok," she signed to him. "Sorry," she added, forming a fist and running it over her chest in a clockwise direction.

Lewis pulled back the covers. "Get up," he told her. He started jumping again as Gillian lifted herself into a sitting position. She went to the bathroom and made a point to wash her face before Lewis could question her about looking sad again. When she came back, he had disappeared, leaving the bed sheets in a massive tangle.

**PJ**

Gillian lifted Lewis so he could push the doorbell incessantly. "I'm coming!" Was the call from the other side of the door. Gillian put Lewis back on the ground. She had a day bag packed for him with the usual suspects, toys, change of clothes and underwear, wipes, snacks, a nappy in case he needed it. He didn't really _need_ it these days but it never hurt to be prepared. Sometimes he had accidents. The door opened to reveal Gillian's mother Dana. "Hi Grandma!" He signed to her.

"Hi Mom," Gillian greeted at a far lower decibel. Lewis pushed past his grandmother to enter the house, calling out for his grandfather.

"He's in the den," Dana called after her grandson. Lewis didn't hear her. She turned to her daughter as she stepped inside. "How's Cal? Is he awake? Are you ok? What happened to you?"

"Nothing," Gillian lied automatically, trying to avoid the other questions.

The door closed behind her as she moved to the left, entering the living room. She put Lewis's bag down on the couch. She could see him wandering around the dining room looking for his grandfather. She signed 'granddad room' to him to let him know where he should be looking. The sign for granddad was similar to grandma but from the forehead; room was a bit like closing an imaginary gate in front of her with both hands, holding them out, palms facing each other and then swivelling at the wrist to bring the fingertips to touch. Lewis raced off.

"Well tell me what's happening with Cal. How is he doing?" Dana pressed as she followed her daughter to the lounge. "Sit. Talk to me."

Gillian perched on the edge of the couch. She was really anxious to get to Cal now. It had been too long since she had seen him last. Just because the hospital didn't call didn't mean she wasn't missing out on something. She knew for a fact that something could happen in an instant. That was all it took. "He's in a coma," Gillian admitted. "I don't know for how long."

"Oh my god," Dana pressed a hand to her chest in shock. "Surely his doctor's know something?"

"It's too much one thing or the other," Gillian mumbled. She wasn't making sense. She sighed. "He has a brain injury. He's in an induced coma. His doctors are waiting for the swelling to go down before making a determination. So I don't know whether he's going to be ok or not." And then she burst into tears. That was a nice tidy summation she had been trying to avoid voicing. Her mother got up immediately from her perch in an armchair to sit with her on the couch. She placed a hand over the one in Gillian's lap. The other, she used to rub Gillian's shoulder reassuringly. Or comforting. Or something. She shushed her gently, something she had also done when Gillian was a girl and upset over something or other.

Gillian could hear voices nearing and forced the tears away. She wiped her cheeks hurriedly and tried to ignore her mother watching her with sheer surprise. Gillian was composed by the time her father rounded the corner with Lewis. "What's going on here?" David asked.

Gillian saw her mother give a slight shake of her head out of the corner of her eye. It was a signal her parents had used often when she was growing up. It meant: don't ask now, I'll tell you later. Cal and Gillian had something similar, but it was more just in the way they looked at each other.  
>"Lewis," Gillian got his attention. "I'm going to go now." She signed 'leave': using her dominant hand with the fingers spread open, starting near her face then moving to the side while closing the fingers together. "Ok?" She finger spelled the question.<p>

Lewis nodded. "Granddad and me goey the park." Lewis signed 'granddad' and pointed to himself and 'play' which was two 'Y' hands twisted back and forth at the wrist.

"That's nice," Gillian told him. Nice: was brushing her dominant hand over the palm of her left hand. She told him to be 'good for granddad'. Lewis nodded that he would. She gave him a quick kiss while she was still at his height, before she got up. She mumbled something to her mother about being a few hours. She really had no plan on how long she would be. And then left before she could be stopped and before she could start losing it again.

**PJ**

Gillian was greeted with a smile by Julia who was manning the nurses' desk. Gillian gave a smile in return though it was nowhere near as warm, merely polite. She wasn't trying to be rude; it just took a lot of effort. Now that she was in the building and on the correct floor she was tempted to run the last few yards to Cal's side. As she rounded his doorway she found Cal on his back. The pump of the ventilator forced his chest to rise and fall. The heart monitor tapped out a steady rhythm. He almost looked peaceful. The bruises were starting to turn; his face was starting to clear.

Gillian crossed the room to slip her hand within his. His fingers twitched and her heart immediately thundered. She dropped her purse hurriedly.

"Good morning," Doctor Rockwell entered the room behind her.

"His," Gillian started turning her head to him quickly. "Cal moved his fingers."

Avery approached quickly, dropping Cal's chart on to the end of the bed. "Cal can you hear me?" He spoke directly to the comatose man. He inserted his fingers within Cal's other hand. "If you can hear me, squeeze my hand."

Gillian waited, holding her breath. Did he move? He didn't on her side. Did he on Rockwell's side? The neurologist looked over at her. He was asking her if she had felt anything. She shook her head, swallowing the lump of air. "Cal, open your eyes for me," the doctor instructed gently.

Cal didn't move or respond and after a quarter of a minute Rockwell gave up. Gillian stood there for a while longer, looking down at her husband, willing him to move or blink, to squeeze her hand, to try and sit up, to talk to her. Something. '_Please Cal_,' Gillian begged numbly. '_Please_.'

"I'm glad to catch you this morning," Rockwell went back to get his clipboard. Gillian realised he had actually just given her a moment and his tone now was bordering on that careful 'I have something to tell you' edge.

Gillian glanced over at him.

"I have good news."

"Good news?" she repeated softly. She wanted to feel excitement, elatedness, enthusiasm, hope. What she felt was dejected, disappointed, disillusioned, beaten down.

"Great news," Rockwell corrected. "We're not going to operate again. The swelling is showing signs of going down."


	12. Chapter 12

_AN: M section_

**PJ**

"Do you rememba our weddin' day?"

"Of course I do," Gillian replied sounding very indignant.

"Do you wish it had been different?" He asked, nuzzling his nose into her hair.

"In what way?"

"You know, big white dress, a church, lots of flowers, surrounded by family, friends and otha people we hardly know."

"Oh you mean unfulfilling clichés?"

"Hmph," Cal responded.

"No," Gillian turned over, forcing his head away from her so she could kiss him. She wrapped her arm around the back of his shoulder while she pressed her chest against his and their hands on the mattress entwined their fingers together in an almost painful grip. "I don't regret a thing about the day I married you," Gillian opened her eyes to look at him. His eyes looked grey in this light and she absently wondered if they were like the myth about the ocean and the sky, that they would reflect each other. Did his eyes reflect the colour of the sky?

It was early in the morning; before Lewis was awake, which was how they had taken to telling the time. Cal had slept restlessly; Gillian was aware of him tossing and turning a bit in the night. He was probably just anxious.

"That's nice to hear."

"It's also the truth," she told him softly.

"Even betta," he gave a slightly amused smirk.

Gillian leaned in to give him another kiss. His hand smoothed over her back to her bottom and she squirmed her hips closer to him, pushing him on to his back and leaning her body over his. She kissed him deeply for a moment, feeling his hands tighten their grip on her waist. She gave a little groan and pulled away from him.

"Gill?"

"Yes?"

"Just so you know, I don't regret a thing about marryin' you eitha."

Gillian gave him a smile, her heart warmed. "Come and have a shower with me."

"That sounded like an invitation."

"It was," she told him as if it were obvious. She rolled away from him and fought her way out of the covers.

"No, not _that_," Cal told her. "Think about it."

Gillian looked down at him for a moment, mentally processing her statement over again. "Oh," she gave a light laugh as she realised. "Sure if you want that too I wouldn't object." She turned away from him and headed for the bathroom. She could hear her husband hurrying to follow after her. She grinned and stripped off her shirt, tossing it behind her in perfect timing to hit him in the face.

"Oi," he threw it at her back. She shot him a grin over her bare shoulder. "No offence but you betta make this quick. I gotta start gettin' ready."

"Aw so much romance," Gillian exaggerated a pout. Cal pressed up behind her as she reached in to turn the water on.

"That's what you wanted right? Romance?" He placed kisses to the back of her neck and she shivered within his arms.

Gillian laughed again. She turned within his embrace. Cal didn't exactly give her a lot of space to move in, so her body brushed firmly against various points of his body and it caused heat to pool in her pelvis. She watched Cal watching her for a moment and without any signal they both moved forward to kiss. Cal slid his tongue against hers softly. Gillian gave another little moan feeling other parts of her stir.

"Mum."

"Aw shit," Cal cussed and moved away quickly.

Gillian shot him a glare for swearing. Lewis approached rubbing his eyes. He looked up at his mother. "Dad said bests are for babies," he pointed to her bare chest.

Gillian was stunned for a moment. "They are," she agreed.

"Not for Daddy," Lewis added.

Cal gave a chuckle. "Busted." He approached Lewis and put his hands on the little boy's shoulders. "You want to have a showa with Mum?" He asked, signing 'shower' as Lewis tilted his head back to look up at his father. Lewis nodded. Gillian had already started to remove her underwear. "Get undressed," Cal told him.

"I doubt there's room in there for all of us," Gillian noted throwing her clothing into the wash basket.

"I'll wait for you to get out," Cal told her. Lewis pulled his pyjamas off awkwardly.

"Where are you going to be?" Gillian asked as she pulled the door open for Lewis to step under the water.

"In the bedroom having a wank," Cal retorted with a grin. Gillian gave him another glare. "What?" Cal asked innocently.

Gillian gave him a deadly unimpressed expression. "I meant, don't teach Lewis to say 'wank'."

"It's natural and everyone does it, except for you. And besides, I have urges."

"And you think I don't?" She asked with a raised eyebrow. She stepped closer to him. "You know," she murmured in his ear. "There is another bathroom in this house."

"Was that a serious suggestion?"

"Yeah," Gillian breathed, running her hands around the curve of his neck.

"Oh good Lllll," Cal started and then struggled with the rest. He pulled her head back to look her in the eye.

"I recall promises about a thrill."

Cal's eyes went a little wider. "You'd think afta bein' married all this time I wouldn't be surprised when you come out with somethin' naughty."

Gillian's lips curled into a slow smile. "Let's go," she took his hand and tugged him to the door.

"What about Lewis?"

"He's not going to miss us for five minutes."

Cal watched her march down the hallway, her naked backside terribly hypnotising. She pulled him into the guest bathroom and slammed the door shut behind them before backing into it and tugging him closer until she could kiss him hotly. She rubbed herself against his leg as her fingers gripped his shirt, pulling it painfully to dig into his neck.

"Oh god," Cal moaned between hot kisses.

"Four minutes Cal," Gillian warned.

He fumbled with his own pyjamas, his stomach on edge. Why the hell was he finding this so exciting? It was almost lurid. Her hands joined his, gripping him hard. Cal shifted his hand to her hip, the other to her knee, lifting it to his waist so she was open. Then he moved his left hand to touch her and she let out a low groan. She was ready for him and his left hand felt clumsy anyway. He pushed closer while she pulled.

"Go," she urged him, her eyes opening to pierce him. They were dark and sexy and he felt a sharp tug in his groin that had nothing to do with her hands and everything to do with the way she was looking at him.

"Ugh Gillian," Cal muttered as she guided him into her. He rested his head on her shoulder as he shifted his feet further apart to balance better. He pushed into her again and she gave another low moan. Her hands shifted to his shoulders for balance and she pushed her heel into the back of his thigh. He pumped into her a few more times and she gave soft little gasps but underneath that was the sound of the door rattling in the frame. "Gill."

"Cal," she groaned as he stilled. Her eyes came open again. "What are you doing?"

He was shifting his weight to step away from her. "We have to move."

"What?" She asked alarmed. "No!"

Cal pulled her down to the floor. "Just to here."

"Are you kidding me?" She asked unimpressed.

"Wanna take it to anotha room?" He asked sharply.

"No," she whined and then his body was over hers again and she arched up to meet him and they resumed their frantic pace. The moans started up again and they propelled Cal closer to ecstasy. He pounded into her harder and harder until she was muttering incomprehensibly and tremouring and then he let go.

With a low groan Cal came back to his senses. Gillian was waiting for him. "Shaggin' on a deadline, that's new," Cal gave her a raised eyebrow.

She gave him a slight smile. "Not too fond of the fact that we're on the bathroom floor."

Cal shifted his weight to sit back and let her sit up. "I just cleaned it the otha day."

"It's cold," Gillian frowned at him. She pushed him back gently and climbed into his lap. Cal wrapped his arms around her tightly. "What were you talking to Lewis about breasts for?"

"He asked."

"Did he?"

"Yeah, in the middle of the supamarket."

Gillian giggled. Cal gave her a slight smirk. "How much time do we get for cuddlin'?"

"None at all. I'm going to shower here," Gillian told him getting up again.

Cal leaned back against the tiles as Gillian turned the water on. "Oh you're right, the floor is cold." Gillian turned to see him, leaning back on his hands, his backside only half covered by his pyjamas. "I betta go check on your son then," Cal got to his feet, pulling his trousers back up and tidying himself away.

"Your son!" Gillian called out over the sound of the water.

**PJ**

Cal took Lewis by the shoulder and turned him to face the full length mirror. He put the deep blue tie around Lewis's neck. He went to reach for it. "Let me show you," Cal told him. "So it looks like Daddy's."  
>"Same," Lewis agreed with a nod.<p>

"Yep, the same as mine," Cal adjusted the length. Then he took the fatter side and wrapped it around the thinner side while Lewis watched on in fascination. Cal formed a basic half Windsor knot that matched his own. Lewis reached up to touch it. "I'm not finished," Cal told him, prying his little fingers away. Cal straightened the knot and pulled it closer to Lewis's throat, but not too close. This was the first time he was wearing a tie and Cal didn't want him to decide to pull it off half way through the ceremony. Certainly not before the pictures had been taken. "There," Cal announced he had finished. "What do you think?"

"Very pitty," Lewis decided with a firm nod.

Cal got up from the floor where he had been kneeling and turned to face his wife who was putting the finishing touches to her hair. She had curled it and now she played with a few on the left side that were not behaving. Cal watched her for a moment. She looked stunning, just like she always did, but also, just like always, she managed to steal a little of his breath away. She was wearing a bright red dress that was completely figure-hugging. It was designed to look like a wrap around at the front, and there were little gatherings of the material to help with the affect, but Cal knew better. The straps went over her shoulders but a second set also around her neck like a halter top. The dress was knee length; it was warm for early June. On her feet were two inch silver strappy sandals. Three straps crisscrossed over her toes. The strap around her ankles had a buckle. On her right ankle was a thin silver chain with a small silver butterfly. Around her throat was a matching necklace.

"You're staring," Gillian warned him through her mirror.

"Sorry," Cal came to. He looked around. "Where did Lewis go?"

"Escaped," Gillian responded simply.

"How long are you gonna be?"

"Two minutes," she responded already leaning in to the mirror again.

Which probably meant ten. So Cal went to find Lewis to keep him entertained for that amount of time so he couldn't make a mess out of his suit or his carefully combed hair. He was in the bathroom, squeezing the toothpaste. "Oi!" Cal called from the doorway horrified. "Put that down right now!"

Lewis looked over at him startled. The white mess was over his hands but so far, Cal could see as he rapidly approached, not over his clothes. "Oh," the little boy started and then looked as though he was thinking about a really good excuse for having toothpaste all over his digits.

"Don't start with me young man," Cal told him. "Not today. I need you to be a good boy. My heart won't be able to take the stress of you actin' like a terra as well as your big sista walkin' down the aisle."

Lewis looked up at him blankly while Cal took the tube away from him. He turned him by the shoulder and lifted him to the sink, forcibly washing his hands. When he was finished, Lewis attempted to splash water but Cal quickly turned the tap off. "You're doin' it on purpose aren't you?" He questioned lightly. "Tryin' to give me a bloody aneurism." He dried Lewis's hands too, keeping one arm around him at all times. He double checked Lewis's suit to make sure there were no stains. "All right. Let's go harass Mum," he suggested. Lewis raced from the bathroom, his new shoes slapping out a different cadence as he went. Cal followed quickly after him, reluctant to let him out of his sight now Lewis could reach door handles and had a clear tendency for mischief.

"Hi Lewis," Gillian greeted him as he crashed into her from behind. "Are you ready to go?"

"What's that," Lewis pointed at her face.

"Make up," She answered him. Then she glanced over at Cal. "Why does Lewis smell like mint?" She asked lightly.

"He found the toothpaste."

"Is there any left in the tube?"

"A bit," Cal sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm ready," Gillian announced.

"Great," Cal got up again. "Lewis, get in the car," he signed 'car' by imitating taking a steering wheel.

"Wait!" Gillian called to him. "I want a photo."

Cal reached out and grabbed Lewis before he could race from the room. He pulled him to his hip while Gillian got her camera out. "Smile," he instructed. Lewis forced a grin like he had been taught to do. Cal did the same. Gillian smiled behind the camera as she snapped off a shot. "Now let's go," Cal told Lewis putting him down on the ground again.

Gillian approached Cal. "You look great," she told him with a similar smile as before.

"You look bloody fantastic," Cal slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her in close. "I want the first dance."

"I'll think about it," Gillian responded pushing out of his embrace.

"Ouch," Cal told her. "So callous."

Gillian shot him a smirk over her shoulder as she left the room.

**PJ**

If Cal thought he was stressed out, he paled in comparison to Ajay. His entire family had flown out from Oklahoma to stay in Alexandria where the wedding was being held. Cal went to check on the twenty-nine year old, who was in a vestibule of the church with his best man; an old high school friend, Craig.

"How you doin'?" Cal asked him loadedly as he entered the small room where Ajay had gotten ready that morning.

Ajay took a deep breath and let it out steadily. "Good," he nodded.

Cal nodded too. Ajay introduced his friend to Cal, they shook hands. "Gillian sent me to check up on you so I'll tell her you're doin' shots back here."

Ajay gave a short laugh. "Tell her we started last night and haven't stopped."

"Right-o," Cal agreed. "See you out there."

"Yeah," Ajay agreed with a much lighter smile.

Cal headed to the back of the church where Gillian was standing around with Lewis and Ajay's parents. She spotted him and excused herself. "He's here," Cal informed her in a conspiratorial tone.

"I was just wondering how he was doing," Gillian was on the defensive.

"He's fine," Cal told her honestly. "I have to go."

"Yeah," Gillian agreed. She adjusted his tie with one hand, Lewis on her hip. Cal was pleased to see his son's tie was still intact. He leaned in to give his wife a quick kiss on the cheek. "Good luck," she told him with a smile.

"See you late-a," Cal farewelled thinking this would be the very last time he was ever going to walk down the aisle.

Cal walked back around the church to where he had parked the car and drove further into Alexandria to the hotel where Emily was getting ready. He rode up and knocked on the door. Zoe let him in. "Hey," she greeted him with a smile.

"How's everthin' goin' here?" He asked slipping inside. Zoe was wearing a light lavender knee length dress. "You look nice," Cal told her politely.

"Everything is good. Have you see Ajay?"

"Yes," Cal confirmed. "He's at the church," he told his ex in a soft tone.

"Good," Zoe responded. "Come and see Emily," her eyes lit up with excitement. "She's so beautiful."

Cal came into the suite and rounded the corner to where Emily sat getting the last of her makeup touched up. She caught his eyes in the reflection of the mirror and gave him a smile. "Hi Dad."

"Bloody hell," Cal responded. "You look amazin'."


	13. Chapter 13

Gillian day dreamed when she was with Cal. She noticed it now because the ventilator gave a sudden squawk as Cal took a subconscious breath on his own and it brought her back into the room. Soon, they were going to dial down his sedation and remove the tube. Tomorrow, in fact, Gillian had been told. And then they would assess him for responsiveness. She felt badly for letting her mind wander away when she came to spend the time with him, but sitting in silence took its toll too. Five days of sitting with him in silence was taking its toll big time. She felt the frustration building. It was coiled beneath her surface just ready to break out. But now was not the time or place. Nor was at home with Lewis. Or at work when she called in to check up on them. A part of her knew this wasn't healthy. She needed to release too. She needed someone to talk to, to help her emotionally and mentally and teach her how to cope. But right now, it wasn't a good time. She had to take care of Lewis and be here for Cal... ok, so she was making excuses. She would deal with it tomorrow.

Speaking of Lewis, she checked her watch. She should go and get him. It was late. She had essentially abandoned him at her parent's place. The last thing she wanted right now was to go back to face them. They would demand answers she couldn't give. Like so many other people in her life. Kate kept calling. Ria, the representative from work, had finally stopped asking. Finally. Gillian sighed. How could she say 'finally' when it had only been five days? It felt like longer. Every minute that she sat here felt like hours. Her mind raced over nothing. And she was exhausting herself. So much for making a plan. She was going to have to do better than this. Otherwise she was going to fall apart.

"Cal," she got to her feet and leaned over him, her hand resting on his shoulder. His head was turned towards her, the tubes of his breathing apparatus carefully in the crook of his neck. "I'm going to go home now honey."

He didn't respond.

She leaned down and kissed his cheek. She smoothed her fingers through his hair at the base of his neck, avoiding the white gauze bandage like it was toxic. She straightened up again, telling him she would be back to see him tomorrow. She told him to have a good night and that she loved him. She picked up her purse and headed for the door. Was it awful to think that she was actually starting to get used to the lack of acknowledgement from him? On her way out Jay farewelled her with a 'see you tomorrow!'

She gave him a nod and smile and was immediately horrified that this had become her life. Coming to visit her husband everyday in a hospital while he sucked air through a tube. What did his living will say again? She hated to think it, but she was going to have to contact their lawyer and read it again. When Doctor Rockwell had asked her if he had one she said he did. He had nodded and it was implied that she would take care of it. But so far she hadn't. She had forgotten to. She barely remembered to put gas in her car. Gillian pulled her phone as she stepped into the elevator. She set a reminder about Cal's will.

**PJ**

Her mother was waiting for her. She was prepared this time. She physically ushered her daughter into the house. She said she had been on the phone with Kate for several hours getting details about Cal's accident and current condition. Gillian felt like she had been busted for sneaking out. She had only done it once. She had been a good girl back then, far too afraid of what other people thought of her. Particularly her parents. Or at least, her mother; she had already started to disassociate from her father. As her mother talked, Gillian watched herself from slightly to the side. She was disassociating now. She was disconnecting from her own life because something was happening with her husband she was having a hard time processing and accepting and just in general, dealing with. She was walking around in shades of herself. She knew this. She kept sensing it on the edges. But she didn't know how to deal. She knew she didn't want to lean on her mother to do so, or her sister in law, or anyone of her employees, or Cal's daughter and her husband. So who did that leave?

They stayed for dinner. Dana already told Lewis they would be and he was looking forward to one of his favourite meals she had prepared in anticipation. It was manipulation, Gillian knew that, but in her heart she never wanted to disappoint Lewis and what was the harm really? It was a hot meal, that she didn't have to prepare herself, or worry about the dishes afterwards. And it made Lewis happy. She kept telling herself that despite wanting to crawl inside her own skin. If Cal was with her she would have to just give him a look, just one look and he would immediately claim he had to go for some work related emergency and they could bail instantly.

They didn't stay long that night though. Just long enough to help with the dishes and thank her parents for babysitting and for the meal and insisting that she was really tired and just wanted to go home. She didn't miss the subtle looks her parents exchanged. She promised to call if there was news, or a change. Her parents volunteered to take Lewis again tomorrow. She declined. Tomorrow she was going to focus on something other than sitting and staring at her husband while he recovered.

At home, Gillian put Lewis to bed. She kissed him and told him she loved him and she thanked him for being a good boy today. He had always had perfect timing, knowing, or sensing, when it was a good time to be behaved. Like now, when his mother really needed him to be. "Ok Mum," he signed.

Gillian gave him another kiss. "I love you very much," she signed the full sentence to him, emphasis on 'love'.

"Love you too," he signed back, a cute little expression on his face that reminded her so much of Cal. She wanted to take a picture to show him. But she had his phone. So that was redundant. Gillian brought her hand to her chin, the palm facing her, with the fingers extended so it was flat. Then she closed it into a loose fist, opened it again to repeat the movement. Then she brought her finger to her forehead, index finger extended only. She brought it away from her head, curling the finger, extending it again and curling it again.

Lewis nodded and closed his eyes.

**PJ**

Sunday was torture incarnate. Gillian decided to spend the day with Lewis, to give him some of her focus and yet every spare minute she got alone she was thinking about Cal. She felt if she was away from him for more than twenty four hours something would happen. Which was stupid and irrational but seemed so real to her. She expected a phone call. A few times she thought she really could hear her phone ringing. But it was paranoia and she knew that and she kept telling herself that nothing was going to happen to him, that his recovery was not dependant on her. Sunday became about proving that she could stay away for one entire day and the world would not fall apart. It was tough, but she managed it. In the afternoon she rang Emily and asked her to go up and spend some time with him. Emily agreed and then invited herself around for dinner.

Gillian hung up the call and turned to Lewis who had come into the room. He had the tell tale damp patch around his groin. He looked sad. "Mommy," he gave her a baleful expression. "I had a akkident."

Gillian put the phone on the counter and crouched down to his level. "That's ok," she told him neutrally, as if it were not a big deal. "Let's go wash up though ok?" Wash: closing her hands and scrubbing one over the top of the other.

Lewis nodded and Gillian took his hand. Together they went to his room to pick out clean underwear and shorts. Gillian kept an eye out of a puddle on the floor but she couldn't see one in his room, or in the bathroom and she wondered where he had been when it occurred. The living room? She had only let him out of her sight for a minute to make that call. He was unsettled. She could tell. And when he was unsettled he forgot about things like going to the bathroom. He kept asking about Cal. Where was he? And when was he coming home? Her answers about him being sick and at the doctor's were not really enough of a satisfactory response anymore; he clearly wanted details that would explain a prolonged absence. The only other time Cal had gone away for any length of time was when he had been in Seattle at the Gottman Institute. He had called Lewis and spoken to him on the phone. This time around, Lewis didn't understand why he couldn't do that again; he didn't understand, only that his father was suddenly not around. In the beginning he might have been ok with a few days absence, but not now. Gillian could see that, but she also didn't have the heart to take him up there and let him see his father with a tube stuck down his throat. Now she was wondering which was worse; taking him there or keeping him away? She was going to have to do it eventually right?

She took Lewis to the bathroom and put him in the shower. She took his wet clothes to the laundry straight away and put a load on, her eyes travelling, searching for a sign that he had peed on the floor too. But she couldn't find it and figured maybe his shorts had soaked up the worst. She left Lewis in the water for a while to make a start on dinner. After fifteen minutes, when she still hadn't heard the water turn off, she went to get him. She wrapped a towel around him and dried his ears so she could put his hearing aids back on. Soon he would be old enough that they could teach him to do it himself. Cal was always pushing him to be 'a big boy'. And Lewis always responded to Cal.

"Emily's going to come for dinner," Gillian told him as she dried him off.

"Oooohh!" Lewis wiggled his eyebrows at her in delight. "Emmy and Ajay?"

"Yes," Gillian confirmed. "Will you help me tidy up the house a bit?"

"I don't think so," Lewis answered while dutifully raising his arms so she could drop his shirt over his head.

"Why not?" Gillian queried.

"Cos Spunge Bub's on."

"No," Gillian told him. "You can watch SpongeBob after you help me to clean up your room." She signed after: flat hands in front of her, palms facing her, fingers extended to the side, like she was making a barrier. Her right hand was in front of her left and she moved it away towards Lewis.

"But I have games," he pouted.

"You can leave your games," she told him helping him to step into his briefs. "But the clothes go away and your shoes and you make your bed."

"Aw," Lewis started but that was all he said. He knew the drill and he knew better than trying to argue.  
>"Thank you," Gillian told him as he stepped into his shorts. He didn't respond to her. She tapped his shoulder and brought her fingers up to her eyes in a 'look' sign. It meant 'look at me, I'm going to tell you something'. Lewis looked up suddenly. Gillian brought her flat hand to her lips and moved it away from herself again.<p>

**PJ**

"Mrs Lightman? It's Jay from Washington Hospital."

"Is Cal ok?" Was the first thing out of Gillian's mouth.

"He's just fine," Jay's tone was soothing. "Doctor Rockwell asked me to give you a call this morning to see if you can meet with him to talk about Cal."

"Of course, what time?" Gillian hurriedly responded, her heart beating out a tense rhythm. Something must be wrong. They only ever rang when something was wrong. Last time it had been because Cal had got restless and pulled out his ventilator tube. They decided to remove it. It was time to anyway. The time before that, the phone call had been because he had seized again. He was on different medications now, and he was doing just fine without the ventilator tube breathing for him but he was still in a deep coma.

Gillian had arrived one morning after his sedation had been basically abolished. Doctor Rockwell did several tests, including checking his brainstem was intact by tilting Cal's head to the side while checking to see if his eyes stayed fixed or deviated to the side. The doctor showed her how Cal's eyes moved away from the direction his head had been tilted in, which meant his brainstem was just fine. Cal's blue eyes were blank and she had looked away quickly again, startled at how disturbed she was by that.

The neurologist had been pleased with the result. Gillian could tell from the doctor's tone alone that that was a good thing but it meant little to her and she made a mental note to start looking into... well... everything. That's what Cal did when he was confronted with something he didn't understand; he needled away at it until he did; person, medical disorder or engineering problem... a lot like Lewis.

After the testing Rockwell had sat her down to explain a series of numbers his assistant was putting up on the white board. GCS 7 = E2 V2 M3 at 07:30.

"Cal scored a seven on the Glasgow Coma Scale, which is considered severe but it is still very early days. He's only just come off the sedation."

Gillian had shaken her head at him, her heart concerned. "I don't understand."

"The scale is an indication of how alert a coma patient is," Rockwell turned the clipboard in his hands to show her a chart. On it were three columns for 'eyes', 'verbal' and 'motor'; corresponding were requirements and numbers to score. The doctor explained how Cal scored two for his eyes opening to painful stimuli, two for incomprehensible sounds and three for decorticate response to painful stimuli, meaning he flexed when in pain but that it was an abnormal response (like attempting to pull his left hand away if his right was being pinched). The worst he could possibly gain was a combined score of three. The best was fifteen; a fully awake person. Rockwell then went on to explain that they would test him regularly to monitor his progress. He turned to the whiteboard to interpret the numbers written there so Gillian would understand.

Gillian looked up at the other numbers on the board. Her cell phone number was up there as well as the numbers and names of Cal's doctor's, his weight and other numbers and codes she didn't understand or really want to.

"From his Glasgow score and another method we use I have Cal categorised as comatose but unresponsive."

Gillian swallowed; it had been hard to hear that.

"Can you make it nine thirty?" Jay went on.

"Yes," Gillian responded.

Perfect. She could drop Lewis off at day care and then go in. She wondered if she should call Emily and let her know or just wait to see what Doctor Rockwell wanted to talk about. Probably wait and see. That seemed like the best choice. No unnecessary worrying that way. So Gillian went to tell Lewis they were leaving soon. "Ok Mum," he told her barely turning away from the TV. And then she went back to the kitchen to finish her coffee and found her hands were tremoring slightly. Her edgy stomach would not succumb to more liquid so she tipped the rest of the caffeine down the drain. She called to Lewis from the doorway, telling him to get his bag and get in the car. Screw waiting around for nine thirty. She was suddenly anxious to get there now.

**PJ**

Doctor Rockwell looked tired. It was the first time in the week Cal had been in the hospital that Gillian had seen the neurologist look worn. He shook her hand and thanked her for coming in and Gillian had a sudden sense of foreboding. He was never this formal. Not even when they had met the first time.

"Has something happened with Cal?" Gillian asked before they had even taken seats in a waiting area. She had been intercepted before she could get to his room.

"His condition hasn't changed," Rockwell assured her.

'_Well that's good_,' Gillian thought.

"But it hasn't improved either. And that is cause for concern."

'_Oh God_.'

"Usually by this point we would like to see signs that Cal is waking from the coma. Now that he is no longer on the ventilator and his sedation as been dialled right back."

"What kind of signs?"

Because coma patients didn't suddenly wake up. What was it he was expecting from Cal?

"Voluntary movements of his hands, feet or head. Muttering words. Eye opening."

Gillian nodded that she understood. Cal shifted sometimes but they were shaky impulsive movements. He didn't respond to people. And he groaned on occasion. But only on occasion.

"Unconsciousness often lasts longer for injuries on the left side of the brain," Rockwell went on, oblivious to Gillian's wandering thoughts. "So I'm not giving up all hope completely. I just wanted to catch up with you and keep you informed."

"I appreciate that," Gillian automatically responded. There was nothing worse than being left in the dark. "So what happens next?"

"We play a waiting game. This morning I upgraded Cal's Glasgow score to an eight."

"Well that's good," Gillian asked hopefully. An eight meant he was on the line between severe and moderate. He just needed one more point to tip the balance.

"Yeah it's an improvement." He was dejected. Gillian could see it despite the fact he was working on hiding it. She didn't know what to do. Was she meant to comfort him? He really was doing everything he could wasn't he? He was here all the time. She wondered if he had even taken a day off in the last week. And it wasn't just Cal he worried about but a handful of other patients. Was he taking this personally?

"What about the other concerns?" Gillian asked. "The build up of free radicals?" She couldn't recall the specifics; far too many factors. She remembered mention of secondary injury events and that they could be just as serious as the initial blow.

"The intracranial pressure was our main concern. We feel confident we have that completely under control now, particularly with the swelling coming down. The swelling reduction also neutralises other secondary event concerns, like the overloading of Cal's system by free radicals, neurotransmitters, calcium, sodium and other toxins."

Gillian nodded. He got very technical and she had to focus to keep it straight in her mind. Even doing some reading on the subject just barely kept her knowledge above water. "So he's really out of the danger zone now?"

"Yes," Rockwell agreed lightly, almost hesitantly. "We've officially entered the 'chronic' stage. We aim to make Cal as comfortable as possible while hoping he will wake up." He paused. "Sorry to be blunt."

Gillian waved a hand lightly to dismiss his comment and the urge to cry. "At what point should I start worrying that he hasn't?"

"In most cases, coma's don't last more than two to four weeks."

"So there's still plenty of time?" Gillian's tone was hopeful. She felt it in her chest. Cal still had time to come back to her. All this talk of hope; she and Cal had always had hope.

"I don't want you to get your hopes up," Rockwell was the pessimist today. "By this stage I would like to see signs of improvement."

"You just told me you upgraded his Glasgow score." And she was itching to find out which category had gained that extra point: eyes, verbal or motor. "And that injuries to the left side of the brain took longer to heal."

Rockwell looked a little abashed. "You know, it's my job to be instilling hope in you."

Gillian gave a slight shrug to say it didn't matter. "I can't imagine how you cope with this every day."

Rockwell gave her a tired smile.

"Thank you for talking to me."

He gave her an expression as if to say 'it's my job to'.

"And for being honest," she added. "I can go and see him?"

"Of course," Rockwell got to his feet. "One more thing. We're moving him out of the ICU."


	14. Chapter 14

Cal sat in the sun with his wife at his side, his son in his lap, and his ex wife on his other side. He wanted to whisper sweet nothings into Gillian's ear but in the presence of his ex, his new in-laws and his daughter getting married, he didn't think it would be entirely appropriate. It was at a wedding he had decided he wanted to marry Gillian and it was another one that reminded him just how much he loved his wife and how much he loved being married. He really loved it. It amazed him. His first marriage had been tumultuous. Certainly after five years the magic had died and they had moved into a comfortable friendship with the occasional hot sex. But with Gillian, every day was magic, comfortable friendship and hot sex. Wait, he should really not think about having sex with Gillian while his daughter was saying her wedding vows. Firstly, it would not be a good look. Secondly, Lewis was sitting on his lap. And thirdly, he should be paying attention. His daughter was saying her _wedding_ vows.

She looked beautiful, so angelic, in her white dress (or as she had informed him so pointedly, 'it's slightly off white Dad'. She couldn't get away with wearing white on her wedding day when she had technically been living in sin with Ajay for several years now, could she? Not in a church. Or as she informed him so pointedly 'outside in the yard is not the same as actually being inside the church Dad'.) and Cal had felt that weird sense of pride and abject sadness that his baby girl was growing up and getting married today. He and Zoe both walked her down the aisle of family and friends. The guests numbered over a hundred. Ajay had insisted on having the wedding in Virginia so his family would stay away. He had miscalculated the lengths they would go to witness his marriage.

"Dad?" Lewis asked loudly.

"Yeah buddy?" Cal spoke to him in a soft voice. "Have to be quiet remember?" He made a signal for 'shush'. "Cos there are people talking." Talking was making circles with his index finger near his mouth.

"I was juss wondring."

"Yeah?" Cal prompted quietly.

"What they talking cos its verr hard to hear," he gave Cal an earnest expression. He pointed to his ear and tapped it twice, the sign for 'hear'. He often used it to mean he couldn't hear properly or what he was hearing wasn't clear.

"Well," Cal pulled Lewis closer. "They're telling each other that they love each other very much." Cal made the 'ILY' sign for 'I love you' and 'talking'.

"Oh," Lewis nodded.

"It's beautiful," Cal told him, with a sweeping encumbering gesture around his face for 'beautiful'.

"Bootiful," Lewis agreed making the sign. He leaned back against his father's chest with a sigh. "How longer is it?"

"Soon," Cal said and signed, making an 'F' hand and tapping it against his chin. Lewis turned his head to see.

Cal asked him to be quiet again, aware that Gillian was looking over. Lewis nodded his head against his chest to say he would be. There had been pre-emptive bribes of cake if he was good through all the boring bits. The boring bits included the ceremony, the photos and the speeches. Luckily for Cal and Gillian, Lewis seemed to accept the trade off for three good boy moments for just one reward. Cal wondered if he would figure out he had been had. He was already preparing to up the stakes. There was dessert, cake and... he hadn't thought of a third one yet but he was prepared to sit through 'The Wizard of Oz' yet again if he had to. As a last resort anyway.

After Emily and Ajay kissed and walked amongst their friends to receive congratulations and well wishes the photos began. Lewis's patience held out for a long time and that was probably because nibbles were circulated and he could eat. Also, Ajay's extended family had children his age and so he had someone to play with. Cal smiled until he face hurt. The photos with the parents were last so by the time they had finished, the sun was starting to set and long shadows were being cast across the lawn. Staff were packing away the outdoor setting and family had already gone ahead to the hotel where the reception was being held.

Cal put his arm around Gillian's waist as they walked. She turned to give him a smile. "Are you ok?" She asked softly.

"Yeah," Cal affirmed knowing she was asking if he was dealing with all the big life changing things that were going on today. She knew he didn't like change, so she was asking and yet still allowing him the chance to keep it to himself. "You look lovely," he told her sincerely.

"Thank you and should I take that as a deflection?"

"Not at all luv," he gave her waist a squeeze. "That was just me tryin' to guarantee my chances late-a tonight." She gave him a smirk as she turned to lower herself into the car waiting for them.

The hotel had been decorated in silvers and reds, the theme colours for the wedding. As the couple made their grand entrance as husband and wife Lewis raced over to crash into his father's legs. Gillian crouched to his level to tell him firstly to be careful and secondly to calm down. Lewis informed her excitedly that there had been 'fizzy' and had she seen the cake? It was huge. So were his eyes. Gillian took him over to their table, closest to where the happy couple were going to sit with their parents on either side and best man and bridesmaid. Gillian was relegated to a table with Zoe's partner, who had shown up for the reception, Ria and Karl, Eli and the woman he had been dating for over a year now, Jade.

Around the room Ajay's large family were taking their seats, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, his sister, her husband and their children. At other tables friends were seated and waiting. Gillian turned her gaze to look over at her husband. He was murmuring something to Zoe. He looked happy and it made her smile. Lewis stood on his chair to lean over and ask her if he could have more 'fizzy'. "No," she told him. "You can have juice." She made a double 'J' sign in front of her mouth.

Lewis pouted at her and she hardened her expression into a slight glare, a warning to say he better not start. She meant what she said and him arguing or having a tantrum was not going to change her mind, but cause him more problems. "Sit down," she told him. 'Sit' was 'H' hands, with her right fingers curling slightly and coming down to clamp over the fingers of her left hand. "We'll eat soon ok?" She grouped her fingers together and brought them to her lips, like she was literally scooping food to her mouth.

Lewis sat himself and threw his head back against the chair. He brought a hand to his nose and pointed to the side, giving his hand a single twist. He looked over at his mother to check to see if she had been watching. Then he seemed defiant, challenging her to do something about it. Gillian signed 'patient' in return: putting her thumbnail on her chin and moving it down a few inches. Lewis narrowed his eyes slightly at her. Their exchange was interrupted by the MC gathering everyone's attention to let them know what was happening next. The buffet was going to be served and tables invited up one by one. Lewis looked over at his mother rapidly, searching for confirmation. She nodded. They were going to have 'dinner' now: the 'eat' sign coupled with 'night'.

Lewis's eyes lit up. But Gillian told him he had to wait again, just a little bit longer, until someone told them they could go and eat. Lewis looked at her like that was the dumbest thing he had ever heard. Gillian supposed if she was nearly four she would probably think the same. They were either eating, or they weren't, and who was anyone to tell them when they could do so? Anyone who wasn't mom or dad, she amended.

They were the first table to go up. Probably Emily's doing, favouritism and understanding a nearly four year old would struggle with waiting a moment longer when the offer of food was right in front of his face. The head table was plated. After speeches, in which Cal spoke very eloquently and was funny and teased just the right amount without embarrassing his daughter, Gillian let Lewis loose on the dessert buffet. He wanted one of everything but managed only a few mouthfuls before being so completely full he started to complain he felt sick. Gillian confiscated his bowl and told him it would be waiting for him when he had let his stomach settle again. He got down from the table to go and see his father. After that he raced around the room with his new brother-in-law's sister's children. No blood relation at all and yet he was the same age. Like they were cousins. But weren't. Complicated.

**PJ**

"Right, you and me," Cal approached where Gillian was sitting alone at her table. "Let's go."

"Go where?" She got to her feet when he pulled on her hand.

"Dance. Now that I can finally pry you away."

"I was thinking I might have to come and pry you away."

Cal's arm encircled her back as they reached the dance floor. He then let his hand drift down over her backside but before she could object, and she did, he had it in the small of her back again. He gave an innocent expression to her slight glare. The lights were dimmed now and the younger children had left. Eli had volunteered to take Lewis to the bathroom, leaving Gillian alone for two minutes. Cal pulled her closer than polite against his body. "Are you proud? No signals of rescue."

"Very," Gillian responded with a smile.

"I've been watchin' you," Cal told her in a murmur, his head pulled back slightly to see her face.

"That's stalking Cal."

"With Lewis," Cal finished. "You're so sweet with him."

"You spoke very well," Gillian told him.

Cal gave her a grin. "You look so lovely."

Gillian gazed into his eyes. "I love you Cal."

"Me too. And I love you."

Gillian giggled.

"Oh god and that laugh just kills me," Cal groaned slightly as they swayed gently.

"I'll have to leave soon. Are you going to stay?"

"Probably should. For a little while longa."

Gillian nodded. She said: 'I'll wait up', just as Cal said 'don't wait up.'

"All right," Cal quickly agreed. "I like your plan betta."

"What plan?" Gillian feigned.

"That one," Cal's finger shifted to wave in her face. She batted his hand away. Cal gave her a quick kiss on the lips. "I like that plan very much."


	15. Chapter 15

A ringing phone. An awful way to wake up. Rated above the blear of an alarm, the cry of a child or the request of a husband. Worse that it was apparently still night time, Gillian realised as she rolled over to answer it. It was dark, her eyes were too blurry to read the numbers on the clock or her phone. She could barely see well enough to grope it off her bedside table. "Yeah?" She croaked an answer.

"Mrs Lightman, my name is Ann, I'm a nurse at Washington Hospital."

"Oh god," fear gripped her heart. "Is it Cal?"

"Doctor Rockwell asked me to call you."

"Is he ok?" Gillian cut her off, panicked, already climbing out of bed to find a shirt to put on over the thin tank top she was currently wearing.

"Cal has had another seizure. Doctor Rockwell would like to speak with you urgently."

"I'll come in," Gillian told her and hung up. Frustrated, she put the light on and winced at how the light cut through to her brain. She was too tired. Stretching herself too thin. Emotionally. She was going to crack soon, she could feel it. Her heart beat too fast as she pulled on clothes, and shoes, and found her phone and car keys.

She went to Lewis's room and found a sweater for him and shoes for his feet. She pulled back his covers, hating that she had to wake him when he looked so peaceful. "Lewis," she spoke in a normal tone of voice so he could hear her. "I need you to wake up." He stirred as she shook him gently and pulled him to sit up. She put the sweatshirt over his head and pulled it down around his shoulders. He looked confused as hell but threaded his arms through the sleeves automatically, while Gillian pushed his shoes on, her heart thundering with fear.

"What's hapning?" Lewis mumbled as she put her arms around his little body and lifted him to hers in an embrace. He wrapped his arms and legs around her. She grabbed his hearing aids from their home and went for the door.

"It's ok," she told him uselessly, pulling open doors awkwardly with him in her arms and her purse in her hand. She lowered him into his car seat carefully; he was getting too big for her to be able to do this easily. She clipped him in and rushed to the driver's side. Everything seemed so loud at this hour. She could see from the clock on the dash it was three thirty three in the morning but didn't even have time to wonder at the magic of glancing at the numbers at that exact moment. The engine reverberating in the confines of the garage and the door going up seemed so excessive.

Lewis asked where they were going and for the first time since being woken up fifteen minutes ago, Gillian had a clear thought. What was she going to do with Lewis? She was sure if she knocked on any one of her babysitting options doors right now no one would turn her away. But she didn't want to drag anyone else into her bubble of problems. Yes she had people to support her, but she didn't want to blur that line into burden. Lewis was her son and she would not dump him on to someone else. She would deal with it.

"To the hospital," Gillian told him absently. "We're going to see Dad."

**PJ**

Gillian rushed towards Cal's room as best she could with a sleepy Lewis on her hip. He was getting heavy, and not helping her by holding on too tightly. He had refused to walk from the car so she had been carrying him around as she made her way into the building and up to the floor where Cal now had a private room in the neurology department. It made hurrying of any sort very difficult. Her heart continued to pound.

"Mrs Lightman!" A voice stopped her. She slowed down. "He's been taken for an MRI."

Gillian's heart didn't take the hint. She approached the nurses' desk where Ann had called to her from. She sat Lewis on top of the counter. "What's going on?"

"I'll let Doctor Rockwell explain to you."

"Where is he?"

"Upstairs taking the MRI," Ann explained patiently despite the rising dangerous tone of voice Gillian was using.

Gillian gave sigh, preparing to calm down some more. "Mum?" Lewis pushed back from where his head had been resting on her shoulder. "Where are we?" Where: his index finger pointing at the roof and moved back and forth slightly. Gillian had forgotten to look up the sign for 'hospital' so she signed 'doctor' instead.

"How long are they going to be?" Gillian asked the nurse who was giving Lewis a fond smile and waiting patiently for them to stop talking.

"I'm not sure. Why don't you take a seat in Cal's room? I'll page Doctor Rockwell and let him know you're here."

"Ok thanks," Gillian picked Lewis up again and crossed the short distance to Cal's room. His entire bed was missing, along with the IV pole and heart monitor. The room was suddenly very empty and very quiet. All that remained were the flowers which were thin on the ground now that the initial sway had started to die off and had not made the transition to his new room. These flowers were new, from straglers and from Kate who wanted to make sure Cal's room stayed bright. It was her way of being involved when Gillian refused to let her otherwise. Gillian settled in the visitor's chair and cuddled Lewis up in her arms. She could feel him looking around. After five minutes he gave up and pressed his face into her chest, he wrapped his arm around her waist and gave a contented sigh. Gillian rocked him back and forth gently, feeling their body warmth mingle and comfort each other. She wasn't sure how long she waited. It was long enough to feel the burning of her eyes and deep seated fatigue. She figured she could fall asleep where she sat if she wasn't so anxiously awaiting news about Cal. She thought he was doing better and now what?

She could see on the white board his new Glasgow Coma Scale score. It was an eight, still the same as yesterday. Gone was the modifier that denoted Cal had a ventilator, but that had not helped improve his score at all. The rest of the numbers had not changed since she had been in that morning. Or, Gillian guessed, technically that was yesterday morning now. Lewis started to get heavy so Gillian shifted to try and get more comfortable. He muttered in his sleep but didn't wake. Gillian wasn't any more comfortable so got to her feet. She turned and lowered Lewis to the chair she had been sitting in. He opened his eyes confused and she shushed him gently, telling him to remain asleep. He curled up on himself and closed his eyes again. Two minutes later, the transport team arrived with Cal. When they saw Lewis they lowered their voices. Gillian recognised half of them. Cal's new nurse Courtney wasn't there but the night team was; Ann, Doctor Rockwell, and a few orderlies Gillian had run into from time to time.

They greeted her and went about setting Cal back up in his room. He looked pale and thinner than Gillian had noticed from yesterday. He was on his side, facing where Lewis was curled up in the chair, and his right hand was risen slightly off the bed, kind of waving in place. He didn't look comfortable; there was a slight crease between his eyebrows and Gillian realised with surprise, his eyes were slightly open. She wanted to go him straight away but Rockwell approached her and took her elbow to guide her to the side of the room so they could talk in private.

"Cal had another seizure," the neurologist started. "A tonic-clonic."

Which Gillian knew as a grand mal seizure. Cal's entire body would have convulsed as his muscles contracted and relaxed violently. This one was clearly much worse than the others though, she could tell that from the expression on the neurologists face. She wondered again if he ever left the building.

"The preventative medication we have him on is not working."

"I thought there were others you could try," Gillian interrupted. There was a long list of drugs; many of them could be used in combination.

"There are," Rockwell agreed. "But it would take years to find the one that would work, or even a combination of drugs that would be effective. And in the meantime there is a very real risk of damage to Cal's already sensitive brain. "

"What do you want to do?" Gillian asked, sensing there was more.

"I want to try surgery. The medications could work over time but the risk is that Cal will seize again and again until we figure that out. He's already at risk for developing epilepsy later because of the initial injury to his brain. The surgery could be instantaneous."

"What's involved?" Gillian only knew vaguely about this kind of treatment. Years ago it had been somewhat experimental. And now? She had lost track of the research. Doctor Rockwell had a new energy about him. He seemed excited, though Gillian didn't think that was an accurate word to describe the doctor's demeanour.

"I want to perform a lesionectomy."

'_What the hell is that_?'

Around them the team settled Cal and left again. Only Ann remained to make a note in Cal's chart but she too eventually walked out. Lewis slept on. Rockwell seemed to be waiting for even more privacy before continuing answering the question Gillian didn't have to voice.

"I was able to identify a lesion near the site of injury on Cal's brain that I think is irritating the normal electrical function. Surgery would involve removing the lesion and possibly some of the surrounding tissue."

"You want to cut out a section of Cal's brain?" Gillian was shocked.

"A very small section around the lesion to make sure. There's a chance that when we get in there we won't need to do that."

"But what about?" Gillian stopped. "His temporal lobe."

What she meant was, his temporal lobe was the section where his speech and memory came from. There was already a risk he would wake up with severe damage to the delicate area, let alone a surgeon in there with a knife making sure of it.

"That is a risk," Rockwell conceded. "And I would not proceed if I felt there would be a risk of further damage. I feel confident the surgery would actually benefit Cal."

Gillian gave him a little 'stop' gesture. "How can you be sure? You can't wake him up and talk to him." Which was often typical in temporal lobe surgeries. The patient would perform tasks and answer questions to help the surgeon locate vital areas of the brain. Cal was not functioning on a normal level at the moment. How was he going to be able to do that?

"No, but we can monitor his brain activity and take MRI's, gather as much information about the location of the lesion as best we can."

He seemed earnest enough but Gillian was still reluctant to agree. There were too many 'if's and guess work and right now she was just plain scared. If they couldn't stop the seizures with medications what other options did she have?

Gillian told Rockwell she would think about it and then basically asked him to leave so she could have some privacy while weighing up her and Cal's options. There wasn't a time limit on making the decision. Before the next time bomb seizure would be ideal but there was nothing to say that the medication wouldn't suddenly start to work and Cal wouldn't have another one. He could be fine. He could be. Gillian wished he would be. With all her might. She wished he would just wake up.

By the time Gillian got to the bed to lean over him and give him a kiss, his hand was still on the bed again and his eyes were closed. He was still, peaceful. And it was close to five o'clock in the morning. Gillian heard Lewis shift behind her and turned to find him sitting up, blinking, clearly confused. She crouched next to the chair and smoothed back his hair. "Hi," she gave him a comforting smile.

Lewis signed 'where'.

"With Dad," Gillian signed back. She indicated Cal and helped Lewis to sit up. She held him on her hip as they looked down on his father's sleeping form.

"Daddy's sleepy," Lewis told her. 'Sleep' was an open hand over the face, while bringing the hand down towards the chin, the fingers and eyes closed.

"He is," Gillian agreed.

"Daddy's beautiful," Lewis told her. With the bruises faded and the ventilator tube gone Cal really did look like he was asleep.

"He is," Gillian agreed again feeling sad and yet like she was on the verge of something. It was week two now. Cal wasn't in the ICU. He was no longer on a ventilator. Lewis was here with her. There were improvements, small ones, but they were there. If it weren't for the seizures she might feel a little hopeful.


	16. Chapter 16

Cal stuck his head in his wife's office. "Ria and I are goin' to catch some politician out in his lies so we'll be gone for about five minutes."

"Ok," Gillian gave him a smile.

"I thought I'd swing by on the way back and pick Lewis up, seein' as I'm gonna be in that neighbahood."

"Perfect," Gillian responded with a nod. "Then I can finish this re..."

"Bye!" Cal called as he turned to walk away. He reached the entrance and waited for Ria to catch him up. His phone buzzed in his pocket. It was a message from Gillian. He opened it with a grin.

**REPORT! UP YOURS!**

He chuckled.

"What's funny?" Ria asked, tilting her head to try and read the screen.

"None of your bloody business," Cal told her. He turned and pushed on the door to head outside. It was warm and a dry wind ruffled his shirt collar. "We're gonna stop by and pick Lewis up."

"Oh," Ria sounded as though she thought that was a terrible idea.

Cal looked over at her as they walked towards his car. "Not first," he pointed out. "Afta."

"Oh right yeah," Ria agreed. "Of course."

Cal demobilised the alarm and headed around the car to slip behind the driver's seat. They headed towards said politician's office on the other side of the district.

"Karl wants kids," Ria started talking.

"I don't really need to know," Cal responded, focussing on the traffic.

"But I'm just not sure I'm ready."

"Not really listenin'."

"What made you decide to have more kids?" She turned in her seat so she was facing him fully. In her hands was a miniature penguin soft toy. "I mean Emily was out the door and you started all over again."

"Stupidity," Cal answered.

Ria was silent for a moment. "Did you always want kids?"

"No."

"So you changed your mind because?"

"Uh well, with Em I didn't have a choice," Cal paused while he checked an intersection. He made the turn.

"And then with Lewis?"

"You should talk to Gill about the kid's thing," Cal tried to change the subject. "I don't really do mushy feelin's."

"I've noticed. That's why I'm asking."

Cal sighed. "I don't know. It wasn't so much havin' anotha kid but more about doin' it with Gill. Not cos she'd be a fantastic mutha, which she is, but just... because..." he stopped to focus on another intersection. Ria waited patiently. "Because," Cal tried again, trying to pick up his train of thought. "I love her, that's why."

**PJ**

The senator's second-in-charge had somehow been tipped off that Cal was on his way and so he made sure his 'people' kept Cal tied up in the front while he snuck out the back. It didn't matter that Cal was there on behalf of the mayor's office, Mr Manstein was not interested in explaining himself. Cal pressed for information as to where Mr Manstein might go, whether he had an appointment or perhaps a favourite lunch spot. Cal pressed and pushed until he got an answer.

"Start with the lunch spot," Ria stated once they got back to the car. She wasn't asking, she was acknowledging that was where they were headed first.

"Yeah where is it again?" Cal asked.

Ria had her phone in hand, checking the internet. "Uh, you're going the wrong way."

Cal quickly pulled into a driveway and executed a U turn. Ria gave him a few quick directions to start him off the right way. Then she fell silent again. "So Karl wants you to have kids now?" Cal started conversation.

"Well he talks about it a lot so from that I can kind of deduce..."

Cal smirked to himself. She had been reading up on psychology books since she had joined them. Now she was actually starting to sound like one. Or more correctly, she was starting to sound like Gillian. "But you're not ready?" He prompted.

"I don't really know," Ria responded.

"Maybe you should talk to Gillian," Cal tried again. "She's much betta at these kinds of things."

"Yeah I probably will," Ria agreed. "But you know," she paused. "She's more like Karl. Always wanted kids."

"Please don't say we're the same," Cal winced. He could feel Ria roll her eyes next to him. They _were_ alike. In so many ways. Different in others. Him and his natural. That Gillian had found.

They were silent a few moments more. Ria gave him the next set of turns to make.

"It's hard to explain," Cal spoke up. '_Without sharin' far too much information_.' "It just felt the right thing to do. In my heart. It just felt right."

Ria was silent. Cal glanced over at her. She looked thoughtful.

They pulled up in front of a small cafe in a quiet neighbourhood. Cal studied it from the front seat. "You sure this is the place?"

"Yeah," Ria unbuckled her seat belt. "This is the place."

Cal gave a slight shrug and unclipped his own restraint. "All right," he trusted her. "You hungry?"

"Could go a cup of coffee."

They went inside and ordered at the counter. "Fancy sittin' out in the sun?" Cal asked.

"Sure," Ria agreed. She grabbed a sachet of sugar and followed Cal out. They took a seat right by the door. "What time did you say we were meeting them?"

"Three o'clock," Cal answered and made a show of checking his watch. Beside him, Ria looked over her shoulder casually, as if she were searching down the sidewalk. What she was really doing was checking out the older man sitting with the much younger woman at the end of the row.

"Huh," Ria turned back to him with an eyebrow raised. "They didn't ring ahead to warn him."

Cal didn't answer her. He was trying to listen in but he was too far away. He wondered if they should have taught Lewis to read lips. That would have been a very handy skill Cal could have also enjoyed. But then, he quite enjoyed being able to sign. It meant he could communicate with people like Kent. Although he could have done that with lip reading as well. "Good for us."

"Yeah," Ria agreed. She squinted into the sun for a second. Then their drinks arrived. "Aw man," Ria suddenly looked around. "No low fat sugar." She apparently spotted some on another table and got up. Cal watched her impassively from his perch. "Hi, excuse me," she approached Manstein and his companion. "I'm sorry but do you have any low fat sugar?" She waved the packet she had taken from the counter inside as she inspected the centre piece at their table.

"Oh sure," the young woman spoke with a smile. "Help yourself."

"Thanks so much," Ria told her warmly. She reached in to help herself to two. "Lovely day huh?"

"Yeah," the woman answered her again.

"Great day to be out with the boyfriend," Ria went on.

Manstein shifted in his seat uncomfortably. The woman, however, didn't seem bothered. She turned to look over her shoulder at Cal, who gave a little wave.

"Well thanks," Ria indicated she had the sugar she wanted and turned away, roving her eyes over the face of Manstein. She approached where Cal was sitting. "They're related," she told him in a low voice, ripping open her packets of sugar and dumping them through the central hole in the table that was clearly intended for an umbrella; a little redundant considering they were sitting under an awning.

"Oh?" Cal raised an eyebrow.

"They've got the same birthmark on their cheek. Definitely related."

"That doesn't mean he's not siphoning off money for her."

"No it just means he's not sleeping with her," Ria corrected. She picked up her coffee cup. "Or he could be but that's just sick." She grimaced as she looked at Cal over the rim while she took a sip.

"Alright then so if this mystery woman is not some hooka he's payin' off," Cal mused. "The money could be for somethin' else."

"I'll call Loker," Ria volunteered.

Cal sipped his coffee and thought about his next move. What he had planned was to confront the deputy-senator with a whole bunch of hard hitting questions that would hopefully get a rise out of him and cause him to let something slip. But now that he was clearly having lunch with his (assumed) daughter Cal didn't really feel so in to that plan. It was probably better to go back to the office and try and stalk the senator later. Besides, he had told Gillian he was going to pick Lewis up and they were wasting time driving all over the district after this man.

Ria snapped her phone shut. "He's going to look into other contacts. Widen the net."

Cal gestured they should go. "We're not gettin' anythin' sittin' here."

"But I haven't finished my coffee," Ria pouted.

"Scull it or bring it with you," Cal got to his feet, abandoning his. He heard Ria scramble after him a second later. He slid behind the wheel and pulled on his seatbelt. He could hear Lewis's voice telling him to '_make it click'_. "Seatbelt," Cal told Ria absently while he reached to turn the ignition.

Cal turned the car around and started heading back towards the day care. Ria asked him what he wanted to do next and he told her to do her research properly before getting him involved; he was a busy man. Ria started explaining that she did have a theory, about the deputy-senator having a mistress, which, she pointed out, could still be true, just not that woman in particular, who was clearly Manstein's daughter or sister or something.

"Oop hang on," Cal dug in his pocket for his ringing phone. He glanced quickly at the screen, wondering if he could safely ignore the call. "Hi darlin'."

"Cal?"

"I'm on my way there right now."

"Ok." A slight pause. "Are you driving?"

"Course not," Cal lied.

"You could have an accident," Gillian admonished and hung up on him.

**PJ**

"Here," Cal pushed open his wife's office door. "Give that to Mum," he instructed Lewis, handing him a white envelope.

"Hi Lewis!" Gillian greeted him with a smile. She turned her chair to face where he was approaching.

"Hi Mum."

"Don't get too close," Cal warned her. "He has cooties."

"Cooties?" Gillian looked over at her husband who was disappearing out the door again. "Hey!" She called after him.

"What?" Cal turned around again.

Gillian took the letter from Lewis who gave the side of his head a conspicuous scratch. "You're just going to dump him on me?"

"Yeah I gotta get back to this," Cal gestured over his shoulder.

"And I need ten minutes to finish this," Gillian indicated her computer while peeling back the sticky tab of the envelope that Cal had already pried open.

"I can't," Cal held up his hands in parley.

"Ten minutes?" Gillian requested. "Then I can take him home."

"You would have taken him home anyway," Cal pointed out.

"I would have asked you to give me ten minutes," Gillian retorted. She slid the letter out and unfolded it. Cal took that opportunity to disappear. "Hey!" She shot after him again. "Your Dad," she turned to Lewis who was looking down at the traffic from her window. He barely glanced at her in acknowledgement. The letter was informing parents there was an outbreak of head lice at the day care. The letter requested they check their children's hair and take action immediately if required. "Lewis come here."

He obliged, giving his head another innocuous scratch. "Mum I made tunnel in sandpit today."

"Yeah?" She asked him, making sure she sounded interested. "Was it a big tunnel?"

Lewis shook his head. "Just little." He signed 'small' bringing his index and thumb together so they were almost pinching. "Kept falling."

"That's not good," Gillian positioned his head and searched through the strands. Lewis tried to squirm away from her but she trapped him between her thighs while telling him she had to check his head. She spotted what looked like a few eggs but with the wriggling Lewis it was hard to tell. They might have caught it early if they were lucky. She let Lewis go and he went back to the window. Gillian found a piece of paper and jotted a note on it for Cal. "Lewis come back," she asked him while searching through her drawer for a paper clip. Lewis wandered back over. "Wanna play a game?" She asked him, making 'Y' hands and twisting them at the wrists. "With Dad?" She added to sweeten the deal.

Lewis nodded vigorously, displaying one of those grin's that was his father's.

"Ok," Gillian pulled him a little closer. She explained how she was going to attach the message to his shirt with her paperclip. It was funny, she told him and Lewis had to make sure lots of people could read it before he went to find Dad. Lewis nodded solemnly and stood patiently while she slid the paperclip down on the collar of his t-shirt and then pushed the paper up between to hold it in place. "There," she admired her handy work. "Now, let me take a picture," she reached for her phone. She snapped an image, then walked Lewis to the door. She opened it for him and sent him on his way. She watched as he ran across the hall to the reception desk to find his first witness. She watched amused at the reaction of the employees he found there. He gestured as he talked, probably explaining that he had to show lots of people; she could see him signing 'large'.

Gillian went to sit back at her desk and brought up the security feed. Cal was in the lab and she could watch Lewis run down the halls to the opposite end of the building. Eli was in his office and Lewis raced in through his open door. She watched Eli turn his chair to read the message and talk to Lewis about something. Possibly what it was about. Lewis gave a distinctly confused expression. He answered Eli and signed 'Dad'. Gillian quickly reached for her phone and sent Cal the message with the photo attached. Lewis headed from Eli's office and stopped the people he passed to point to his chest proudly.

Gillian watched as Cal reached into his pocket absently and brought out his phone. Blindly he opened the message and glanced down at it a second before Lewis pushed his way awkwardly into the room. He could only force the door open just enough to slip through. Cal turned towards him surprised. He quickly approached and knelt to Lewis's level. Lewis excitedly chattered to his father about the note on his chest. Cal whipped it off him, phone still in hand. He headed for a desk and Lewis followed along, still talking. Gillian couldn't hear what they were saying but she could see their mouths moving. She could see Ria talking to the two males from her position behind a consol. Cal ignored her. She had probably asked what was going on.

Cal reached for a pen and wrote something on the piece of paper. Then he knelt as he folded it up and gave it to Lewis. Lewis suddenly gave a firm nod and ran for the door. He couldn't pull it open so Cal did so to send him on his way. Gillian watched Lewis run through the halls and then appear at her office door. He pushed it open and rushed up to her. "What have you got there?" Gillian asked him.

"For you," Lewis handed her the note breathlessly.

Gillian unfolded it, glancing over at the security feed to see what Cal was doing. He had gone back to work. The note read: _My Mummy thinks she's hilarious_. Gillian gave a slight smirk. By his standards, it was a tame response from Cal. "Another one," Lewis told her.

"You want to take Dad another note?" Gillian asked him. Lewis nodded vigorously. "Ok," she agreed, reaching for a clean sheet of paper. She scrawled out another quick message and folded it again. Lewis snatched it eagerly from her hands and rushed for the door, quickly disappearing down the corridor. Gillian watched him on the computer screen, as he pushed his way back into the lab. Cal turned towards him and absently held out his hand for the message. He was working and Gillian realised she should be too. She had told him she needed ten minutes, she was _that_ close to finishing her task. So the sooner she finished it the sooner she could take Lewis to a pharmacy to get something for his lice.

Gillian collapsed the security feed to a smaller window and brought up the file she was working on. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Cal let Lewis out of the lab again. In less than a minute he was pushing his way into her office once more. "Here," he threw the note into her lap, looking pleased with himself.

Gillian unfolded it and read her husband's response. This time she really did smile at his reply. "Another," Lewis instructed her.

Gillian reached for her pen and added another few lines to the end of Cal's message to her. She folded it and Lewis snatched it from her hands. This was actually quite a good way to keep him entertained and allow him to blow off some steam. But that meant she had to focus on actually getting some work done in the time that he was gone. Two minutes later he was back, this time breathing quite heavily. His cheeks were red. "You're going to wear yourself out," Gillian told him.

"It's lots of running," Lewis answered her.

"Why don't you walk?" Gillian asked him. "You don't have to run."

"Huh," Lewis responded but this time, when he took the paper from her, he did wander down the hallway at a much reduced pace.

When the note came back five minutes later it read: _How long is this going to go on?_

Gillian answered with: _You started it._

Five minutes later Lewis came back with: _Did not! You started it! Want me to end it?_

To which Gillian responded: _Lewis won't let me!_

When Lewis returned he had a verbal message. "Dad said liar, liar," Lewis sing-songed in almost the same tone Cal used.

Gillian gave him a wry smile. "Ok you tell Dad it's home time ok?"

Lewis nodded and ran off again. He walked down the corridor, Gillian watched him on the camera feed. He gave the message to his father. Who knelt down and gave Lewis a kiss and a hug. Then he held the door open for him. When Lewis came back he wormed his way into Gillian's arms. He kissed her cheek. "That's from Dad," Lewis told her.

Gillian gave him a smile. "Lovely. Did you also say goodbye to Dad?" Lewis nodded. "Ok then shall we go home?" Lewis nodded again. Gillian told him to grab his bag while she logged out of her computer and packed her purse. She stuck her head into the lab to say that she was leaving. Cal told Ria he would be just a minute and walked mother and son to the front entrance.

"Lewis likes that game a lot," Cal noted as they strolled.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed.

"I think his mother likes that game a lot too," he noted lightly.

Gillian gave him a slight smile. "I do like playing with you."

"Rude," Cal pointed a finger at her. "See you at home?"

"Sure will," Gillian leaned in to give him a quick kiss.

"See you Lewis," Cal waved goodbye to him.

"Bye Dad!" Lewis waved back. Cal pushed the front door open for him and held it for his wife. Gillian stepped through and before she could get out of reach Cal gave her ass a slap.

"Hey!" Gillian complained loudly.

"Payback is a bitch," Cal told her sharply. Then he grinned and let the door swing shut.


	17. Chapter 17

Cal grimaced as he convulsed. Electrical messages surged through his body, forcing his muscles to contract and relax in rapid bursts, so violent the entire bed shook with the force of them. Gillian backed up slowly in horror. A grunt escaped Cal's lips. A second later Rockwell was joining Courtney calling for a specific drug that was supposed to calm Cal again. They didn't hold him down. Nor did they attempt to stop him from swallowing his tongue; that was just a myth anyway. They pumped him full of a drug that was supposed to stop him from seizing and after a few moments he eventually calmed down. Rockwell manually checked Cal's pulse at the point of his wrist, then shone a light in his eyes. Cal gave a kind of sigh as he relaxed further. "You're ok," Rockwell told him. "It's over."

Gillian still marvelled over how easily he spoke to Cal, like he was awake and responsive. She found it so difficult. Rockwell stayed a little longer, fussing around Cal's IV even though Courtney had done the same thing a second ago before leaving again. Then Rockwell patted Cal's shoulder and told him he would see him later. He gave Gillian a tight lipped smile as he looked over. "Are you ok?"

She nodded forcefully.

"They're difficult to watch," he noted and she just knew he was saying 'but there is a way for you to stop them if you would just sign the paper work.'

Gillian gave a tight lipped nod in return, not committing to anything, and he left. She pulled her chair close to Cal again and took his hand. "I'm sorry," she told him in a near whisper. His fingers twitched. Even two days ago she would have gotten excited about that. But she knew it was involuntary. He had even started muttering words, which had freaked her out, especially when he talked about snow, gave no acknowledgement of her in the room and then gave her a string of expletives. Thank god Lewis wasn't there at the time. His Glasgow Coma Scale score on the whiteboard read: E2 V3 M4 07.33. (E2= his eyes opened in response to painful stimulation. V3= he uttered or exclaimed random words but made no conversation. M4= he flexed in response to pain, like pulling his left arm away when doctor Rockwell pressed on his right fingernail beds.) That was a total of nine. That meant he was classified as being in a moderate coma. He was getting better. He was slowly waking up. But god it was taking so long.

Gillian heard the buzz of her phone in her bag. Technically, she should have turned it off. But she didn't always remember and a part of her didn't want to be unreachable. What if something happened with Lewis at day care? He was having a hard time of things at the moment. At first he had been excited to see his father. But then after several visits of Cal always being asleep and unresponsive he seemed to click that something was seriously wrong, even if he didn't understand what it was. The frequency of accidents was increasing. So were the nightmares.

The text was from Eli at work. There was a lawyer with paperwork for Gillian. She called him back. "What does he want?" Gillian asked standing against the far wall, as if distance would create less electromagnet interference.

"I'm not really sure. He said he had important paperwork for you but didn't want to just leave it here."

"What's it about?"

"I don't know."

"Well can you ask him?"

"Hang on," Eli told her and Gillian listened to what was probably the sound of his shirt rustling against the microphone. She looked over at Cal who was still and silent now. "He said he has Doctor Lightman's will and wants to go over it with you."

**PJ**

"Mrs Lightman," the lawyer was in his early thirties. He gave her a warm smile as they shook hands in the hallway of the Lightman Group. "I'm Alexander Langdon". Gillian apologised for making him wait and he waved it off congenially. She gestured that they should go to her office and then led the way. She settled behind her desk. It was starting to pile up with paperwork and she vowed again to make time to be more present at the Group.

"What can I do for you Mr Langdon?" Gillian asked him politely.

He set his briefcase on his lap and unclipped it as he talked. "I have here Doctor Lightman's living will."

Heaviness sunk Gillian's heart. "I asked for that almost a week ago."

"Yes I apologise for the delay," Langdon gave her an easy warm smile. He was practiced, Gillian noted, at bullshitting his clients. He didn't offer an excuse though. He produced the paperwork and handed her a copy. Gillian's signature was on the front as a witness but she hadn't read it. Maybe she should have.

"Are you familiar with the document?" She asked, her tone, surprisingly, all business. This was her husband she was talking about and yet the demeanour of the lawyer and the surroundings meant she was in 'work' mode.

"I've made myself familiar with it yes."

"Can you answer me something?"

"I'll try."

"I need to know what Cal's wishes are in regards to medical procedures."

Langdon looked blank for a moment.

"Risk versus quality of life," Gillian clarified.

Langdon gave a nod. "Ok," and flipped open his copy of Cal's will.

**PJ**

Gillian combed her fingers through Cal's hair. He didn't react to her touch of course but there was a part of her that still watched for some sort of response. "Cal. They're going to do the operation. I made a decision. I hope it's the right one."

The transport team arrived almost instantly and with them, Doctor Rockwell. He was in blue scrubs and crossed the room to where she stood. "Hi Cal. We're going to take you upstairs now. See if we can't put a permanent stop to all those seizures." He turned and gave Gillian's arm a squeeze. They stepped back while nurses stepped in and released the bed so they could wheel it out of the room. Doctor Rockwell moved away from her again, consulting with his assistant on some last minute details. Gillian ignored them. She didn't want to know the finer details of cutting into her husband's skull and brain. She walked with them to the elevator and rode up to the next floor. Cal turned his head slightly at the voices around him and she thought it was a shame that he had started showing signs of improvement and they were going to set him back again. What if he didn't wake up the second time around? Or what if something happened during the surgery? If they removed just a millimetre too much...

Gillian stopped the train of thought dead in its tracks. She was meant to be hopeful and positive and... and... it wasn't like Cal was aware of her state of mind, or her mood. He wasn't even aware that she was in the room. At least that's how it felt. It might not be true. But she didn't know for sure. She didn't know anything for sure. Except that Cal's living will gave explicit permission for her, as his medical proxy, to make decisions regarding his well fare. Whatever it took. Whatever she felt was best. Whatever that meant. What Gillian did know was Cal would take the risk. And he would not want to be plagued by seizures for the rest of his life when he had the chance to permanently abolish them. She made the decision with him in mind. What she wanted was for him to just get better.

**PJ**

"_Tinkle, tinkle little staaa_," Lewis sang to himself at the table in the kitchen while he scribbled a blue pencil over a piece of paper.

Gillian crept up behind him.

"_Tinkle tinkle little staaa_," Lewis repeated. He gripped the pencil in his left hand, finally confirming all those rumours that he was going to be left hand dominant. For a while they had tried him out with his right, just to be sure, but he was pretty determined to use his left. There were no other indications that the right side of Lewis's body had been affected by loss of oxygen to his brain during his birth. In fact, as he got older, the only detrimental result of his birth was still his hearing loss.

"_Oh wunda where you are_," he sang the next line, reaching for the yellow. Gillian could see he had coloured the sky blue. There was some sort of monstrosity in the middle, that looked like it could be anything, but probably, if she asked him later, it would turn out to be a dinosaur. Or Cal. His two favourite subjects.

Gillian left him to it, and crossed to stack the dishwasher now that she had finished cooking dinner. She checked the time. Five more minutes and she would serve it up. But first it was time for Lewis to pack up and help her to set the table.

"Ok Mum," he responded immediately. "Here," he picked up the picture to hand to her. "That's for Daddy."

"It's lovely," she told him studying the image closely. "What can you tell me about it?"

"That's sun and that's sky," Lewis immediately rattled off, pointing out the features. "That's," he pointed to the centre of the picture, the big yellow mess. He hesitated. "That's you," he decided. "It's pitty."

"And where's Dad?" Gillian asked him noting there were other marks in the background of the picture.

"Um," Lewis craned over the page, blocking Gillian's view. He stared for a while, "that one and that one."

"It's lovely Lewis," Gillian told him again putting it back down on the table but to the side. "It's time to pack up now." He objected when she actually reached for the pencils, but she told him he could go back to drawing after they had eaten. At the mention of food Lewis was much happier to oblige. They ate together, Gillian sitting next to Lewis. He had taken over her place setting once he had graduated out of the high chair, so she had moved down a place. Lewis cleared his own plate and put it in the dishwasher and then asked if he was allowed to draw again. Gillian told him he could. He went to the other room to get more paper. Gillian set the dishwasher to run, then joined her son at the table. "Let's do some drawings of our family for Dad ok?" She told him, pulling a piece of paper towards her as well.

"Ok," Lewis agreed amicably. He picked up a brown pencil and drew a round circle in the centre of the page. Gillian turned to her own page and sketched out vague outlines of three bodies, two tall, one short. "Mum?"

"Yeah Lewis?"

"When's Dad coming back?"

"He has to get better first," Gillian replied glumly. And survive the surgery. She was going to wait up at the hospital but then all she would be doing there is twiddling her thumbs and fretting whereas here with Lewis, she felt some comfort for actually being close to Cal in some way and was nicely distracted. Most of the time she was distracted. "Remember?"

"Yeah but when's that?"

"I don't know." She hated telling him that. The surgery was going to set Cal back but she didn't know by how much. Neither did Rockwell. They wouldn't really know anything until or if Cal woke up. Gillian was dealing in 'if's'. And it sucked.

"Maybe next week?" Lewis asked hopefully.  
>"Yeah maybe," Gillian gave him a smile.<p>

Lewis nodded thoughtfully and reached for a new colour. "He's very sick."

"He is," Gillian agreed.

They drew in silence for a moment.

"Mum?"

"Yeah?" She looked over at him.

Lewis was sitting with another thoughtful expression. "Is Dad ever coming back?"

'_I hope so_.'

Gillian reached out a hand to curl around the back of his head. He shrugged out of her reach. "Of course he is," she lied.

**PJ**

Gillian entered the hospital room feeling an automatic hush fall over her body as she crossed beneath the doorframe. It was quiet in there, the beep of the heart monitor the only steady and reassuring sound. She couldn't hear him breathing and he didn't move. At the moment he was lying on his right side, towards the window and where Lewis's pictures were stuck against the glass, facing just slightly away from the door. In a few hours he would be moved to the other side. That was to stop bed sores from forming. It worried her that they were taking that precaution already. He hadn't been there for that long.

She stepped across the floor softly and cautiously, a part of her hoping to see his eyes open, blinking, waiting for her. But no. As she rounded the bed she could see his eyelids were still closed, his face slack. Disappointment still tickled the edges of her heart despite hope slipping through her desperate fingers every day. She was supposed to be remaining positive, but that didn't stop doubt and worry from coming to visit.

"Hey sweetie," she spoke gently, running her hand over his temple tenderly, skirting around the edge of the fresh bandage, smoothing back his soft hair. He was at the point where the anaesthetic should have worn off and yet he was still unresponsive. But at least he hadn't regressed. His coma score was the same as when he'd gone in for the surgery. As far as Rockwell could tell it had been successful, but then they wouldn't know until or if he woke up. Gillian might not have sat in the waiting room while he was under the knife, but she was back to waiting all the same.

"I'm here," she informed him. She caressed his cheek then sat and left her hand within his. It was warm. She took that as a good sign. She leaned down and set her purse on the floor by her feet. It made her nervous these days to turn her phone off. But people knew where she was if they needed to get hold of her.

The hardest part was talking to his inert form. When she told him things she really wanted to hear his reaction. It was all very well coming to talk to him about the life that went on outside of his hospital room but their partnership had always been reciprocal. She wanted him to respond. Even if it was just to go 'uh huh'. Gillian felt a pang of loneliness. She squeezed his hand. "Emily's going to come by later and see you," she told him. She stopped to think. What else was there? She came to see him several times a day. There was nothing else to add. Life crawled on day by day. Should she tell him what she had for breakfast?

"Lewis drew you some new pictures but I forgot to bring them in. Tomorrow though." She looked over at the board with his information on it. His weight was down today. Not a surprise. It had been dropping steadily for weeks. But it was nearing that threshold the medical staff had set for him as being his limit. Gillian checked the other numbers. There were no changes. None at all. '_Maybe they haven't updated the board yet_,' she reasoned to herself, despite knowing that they did all those checks in the mornings, sometimes before she managed to get there.

Gillian felt a twitch of his fingers within hers. This felt different. It was a tightening; it was a grip; it was purposeful. Her gaze shot to his face. His eyes were flickering, cracking open and his blue eyes looking out. Right at her. No, through her; he looked _through_ her. Her heart jumped into the base of her throat and started seizing as if it were trying to squeeze itself into the space and jimmy its way out the other end. "Cal," she called to him as she literally jumped to her feet. "Cal," she repeated while she reached over his head for the call button and pressed it in a quick succession of three bursts. She turned back to him and rested her hand against his head, ear, cheek. He looked up at her blankly. "Cal, honey, can you hear me?"


	18. Chapter 18

_AN: This is an M rated chapter._

**PJ**

Cal watched as Gillian emerged from the bathroom, flicking out the light as she went. His eyes followed her across the room to the bed, where she proceeded to clamber over him to get to her side of the mattress. "Oi," he complained.

"Oh sorry," she told him, not apologetic at all.

"I'm tryin' to read," Cal grumped at her despite the fact that he had been on this same page when she went into the bathroom and fifteen minutes later he hadn't turned it. He should have thought about that a little more carefully. But then a part of him wanted her to work it out. Or at least be suspicious. That would add to his fun, to have her confused.

"Sorry," Gillian repeated shifting the covers out of the way so she could slip her legs beneath them.

Cal eyed her up from his pillow, watching as she removed a bracelet and her watch from her wrist before shifting further down the bed to rest her head like he was. Finally she looked over at him. "What?" She queried innocently.

"I like your new pyjamas."

"Yeah?" She gave him a smile.

Cal nodded. "Cute."

"Hm," Gillian responded. "I felt they were appropriate."

"Given the sunny weatha?"

Her new pyjamas were sky blue with suns on them. "Or at least Lewis did," Gillian added moving the covers over her shoulder.

"He picked them out?"

"Yes," Gillian nodded.

"I should thank him then," Cal told her casually.

"Why's that?"

"Cos I can see everythin' goin' on here," he gestured to his own chest.

Gillian laughed and turned over. "I'm going to sleep," she informed him.

Cal silently marked his place and closed his book, careful not to make too many overly large movements. Bending his arm at an awkward angle, he placed the closed book on his night stand. "Want me to put the light out?" He offered.

"That's ok. I'm not quite sleepy yet," Gillian's voice floated over to him from her darkened side of the bed.

"All right," Cal responded watching the curve of her shoulder. "I won't be long."

"Ok," Gillian agreed amicably.

Cal was silent and still for a moment. He shifted his arm up further to his pillow and felt the soft length of material that was still stashed under there from earlier, when she had been mucking around in the bathroom. He felt for the knot and then the loop, his breath shallow with espionage. Gillian didn't move or stir, from what Cal could tell, she wasn't preparing a counter attack, she really was just going to sleep. Finally deciding enough time had gone by to let her be fully unaware, he made his move.

He turned towards her, pulling the material from beneath his pillow, grabbing her left hand and slipping the noose around her wrist. "Hey!" She protested loudly, turning backwards in to him. Cal reached up and pulled the material tight so her hand shot towards the head of the bed. With the confusion still raging he grabbed her other wrist but that was when she clued up to what he was doing and started to struggle. "Cal!" She complained. But she only had one hand and Cal had two, plus he had the superiority of surprise and a greater muscle mass. He forced her wrist above her head, pinning it down with his right hand while his left battled to slip the other noose over her squirming fingers. Gillian managed a knee into his waist that had him shying away on that side and he lost his balance and fell to the mattress with a grunt. That served as the distraction he needed to slip the loop over her hand and pull that knot tightly into place. He ducked out of her way as she turned her hips towards him and attempted a kick. Her toes caught the edge of his hip as he rolled out of the way and came to stand on the floor on her side of the bed. He panted a little, catching his breath.

Gillian, hair mussed and eyes dangerously dark, was now tied to the head of the bed and she tugged at the restraints while she tried to sit up. "What the hell?" She complained, her eyes flashing.

"Pay back is a bitch," Cal told her forcefully approaching to kneel on the bed.

Gillian brought a foot up to kick him and he batted her feet away. "Let me go," she demanded.

"Payback," Cal told her again as he fended off another strike. "I did warn you."

"Shut up," she told him sharply. She pulled her arms again, roughly. "Let me go."

"Nope," Cal grabbed an ankle and tugged on it hard to unsettle her. She was forced down the bed so her arms stretched out to their full length and the bindings held tightly.

"Ow," she complained. "You're hurting me."

Cal checked her face to know that it was just a ploy. One sign of genuine pain or displeasure and he would seriously let her go. But she was trying to con him. She gave him a pout and he just shook his head at her. "Nice try."

She brought a foot up to push at him and he tsked her, suddenly firm. "Don't make me tie your feet up too."

Gillian stopped struggling and studied him for a moment. She tilted her head back to see what he had bound her with; one of his old and out of fashion ties. She looked back at him. "You planned this you sneaky bastard."

Cal gave her an unimpressed expression. "Now is that anyway to speak to your superior?"

Gillian laughed suddenly. "Superior? That's a stretch don't you think?"

"Which one of us is tied to the bed right now?" Cal countered.

Gillian narrowed her eyes at him. "You're not seriously going to leave me here are you?"

"Leave you?" Cal questioned crawling towards her. He watched as her breath hitched and she tried to cover that up. This was already a lot of fun! "Now why would I leave you?" He asked her rhetorically. "When I'm just startin' to play."

"Cal," Gillian started to protest. He dropped his mouth dangerously close to hers and was pleased to find her chin tilting upwards to meet him. He didn't kiss her lips though, he dropped his head further to trail feather-light caresses along her jaw. He felt her breath catch again and was pleased further still. At least she was enjoying this despite her objections. He wasn't sure how she would take it. He was hoping well. He was hoping she would let him have his fun before she got serious about being let go. "What are you going to do to me?" She asked weakly.

"Hmm," Cal mused. "Probably start your punishment."

"Punishment?" Gillian asked meekly.

"Punishment," Cal confirmed. "For that nasty, slanderous statement you had our son parade around the office this afternoon."

"It was a joke," Gillian offered in a small voice as Cal's low tone and lips whispered over her skin. She could feel her stomach quivering with anticipation.

"Hmm," Cal noted softly. "I'm glad you got a laugh out of it."

"I didn't," Gillian backtracked suddenly. "It was terrible of me. I'm sorry sweetie," she laid it on thick.

Cal chuckled and pulled away from her. Leaning his weight on his hands he hovered over her, his knees on each side of her hips. "Really?" He questioned in disbelief. "You're gonna play it that way."

"Ugh," Gillian groaned and bucked her hips at him suddenly, trying to unsettle him.

"Would you prefer I went to sleep downstairs and left you here?"

"No!" Her eyes immediately went wide.

Cal laughed again. "Good. I have no intention of endin' this right now." He dropped his head dangerously low again so he was almost touching her.

"When?"

"When I'm finished," Cal told her, this time kissing her properly.

Gillian gave a moan in the back of her throat and Cal could feel her shoulders shift in her attempt to wrap her arms around him, only to be reminded that her arms were tied above her head. "What are you going to do to me?" She asked softly.

"Do you trust me?" Cal asked her sincerely.

"You know I do," she answered just as seriously.

"Good," Cal nodded. "Cos I'm gonna torture the shit out of you."

"No," Gillian whined. She pulled her arms again.

"You're just makin' that worse," Cal warned her shifting down her body again. He reached her navel and used his mouth to separate the sky blue top from the sky blue bottoms she was wearing. Gillian squirmed against the scratch of his goatee and let out a little huff. "Geeze," Cal noted conversationally. "Anyone would think you were a little turned on by this."

He didn't look, but he could just about feel her eye roll. "Shall we check?" He did look up at her then, the light making her eyes seem dark. Her cheeks were a little flushed and the way her hair was tussled made her look very sexy. Not to mention with her arms pulled up like that she was incredibly vulnerable and it rearranged certain parts of her anatomy as well. Cal stared at her chest for a moment, noting the taught peaks of her nipples through the thin strapped tank top and felt a stirring in his groin. Gillian gave another groan in the back of her throat and twisted her hips against him in protest.

"Was that an indication to help myself?" Cal asked her lightly, knowing she would not answer either way. To say 'yes' meant he won and to say 'no' meant she would deny herself something they were both finding new and exciting. And she did like being defiant.

Cal went back to nuzzling around her bellybutton, feeling her skin temperature rise beneath his cheeks. He heard Gillian's breath become erratic and the occasional quiver along her body as she attempted to free herself. There was a fail safe built into each knot and her hands could reasonably reach each other. She only had to figure it out. That is, if she really was determined to let herself go. This could be interesting.

Gillian let slip a desperate, "_Cal_."

"Oh?" He raised his head to see her face. "What was that darlin'?"

But she refused to answer now and he knew she was playing his game. Or at least, she didn't want him to win it. She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of her begging him to either touch her or let her go. She was probably going to attempt to stay tight lipped the entire time and it only made Cal more determined now to get a reaction out of her. Part of the game was the fact that he was in control. Cal gave her a slight grin and she muttered a 'bastard' at him that made him laugh again. He crawled up her body again. "You've got such a filthy little mouth," he told her lightly. She looked up at him defiantly, her breath pronounced. "What did you call me?"

Gillian literally bit her lip and it caused Cal's own stomach to squirm. She even pouted innocent eyes at him that made him want to drown in her mouth. With effort he restrained himself and Gillian must have worked that out for she smirked at him slightly. "Naughty," Cal told her. "Very naughty, tryin' to play me."

"Aw," Gillian pouted at him as if she were sympathising. "Want me to make it up to you?"

"Late-a," Cal answered. "It's my turn."

Gillian gave another huff which turned into a slight suppressed squeak as Cal ran a hand down the length of her side, from the hollow of her arm right to the firmness of her thigh. She shivered, which Cal felt acutely, given the fact that his body was resting lightly over the top of hers. He gave her a growl before running his nose between the swell of her breasts, down to her belly button to where he had been finding his way beneath her clothes. Gillian's hips bucked slightly into his as Cal used both hands to push her top up. He smoothed his trailing thumbs over skin as he fingers moved higher.

"Oh," Gillian strangled out of her mouth as his hands brushed over her breasts, thumbs over her nipples. Cal shifted his hands around the back of her shoulders to keep the material even on both sides of her body despite the fact that she was lying on it. That way, it would stay in place and resist the urge to reach an equilibrium; that would only get in his way. It left Gillian's torso and chest nicely exposed and heaving as she sucked in air. She moaned when he just watched her for a moment, not allowing any contact. She swallowed heavily and tugged on her arms again, squirming at the same time and Cal figured it wasn't just about trying to get free anymore but merely having to physically vent the tension building within her.

Cal kissed over every inch of the skin on her torso, noting the places that made her squirm just that little bit more. He knew them of course, after seven years together how could he not? But it was almost fun trying to discover them all over again. Gillian periodically sighed and gave little moans and finally she just begged him to stop teasing her. Cal would have taken great delight in that but the mockery stage was well over and he was turning himself on at the same time. The last thing he wanted to do was break the mood. He obliged by gently biting each of her nipples and lavishing them with his tongue, his fingers taking over where his mouth could not simultaneously be. Gillian let out a cry that almost had Cal stopping to shush her. Just that little bit louder and there was a chance she could disturb Lewis. He wasn't sure though, they had never tried it.

"Cal," Gillian moaned hooking a leg over the back of his to bring his hips down on top of hers. She squeezed her thighs together tightly, him in between. "Let me go," she whined. Cal ignored her. It wasn't time yet. And besides, the heat of her groin against his was quite distracting. He shifted down her body, leaving her heaving chest behind to tug her pyjamas off by the material at her calves. Gillian lifted her hips from the bed to help him; her eyes seemed black. Cal pulled his t-shirt off. It was too hot to wear it now; it _was_ summer (he should have graduated out of his winter wear by now) and the image of her, breathless, cheeks flushed, skin sheened with sweat, squirming, desperate, begging. God it was sexy. Far sexier than he had been imagining it to be.

He dropped down to his hands and knees and let his tongue trace a line up the inside of her right thigh. She gave another little strangled sound and bucked slightly. He knew she was struggling to keep control of herself. He nipped near the top of her leg and she brought her left heel down into the small of his back with force, throwing her head back to give another cry. Cal ignored the shot of pain; he would give her shit about that after; he knew it wasn't intentional. He peeled back her underwear and was suddenly aware of how still she was. He looked up to find her watching him. He kept his eyes on her as he lowered his face to her pelvis. Gillian's eyes fluttered closed as he made contact.

"Oh!" She cried out again. "Cal! Oh god! Please…"

"Please what?" Cal asked her lightly, shifting his body to reposition.

"Please let me go," she begged.

"Not yet," Cal told her gently, placing his mouth over her again.

"When?"

"I told you," Cal responded patiently. "When I'm finished."

"When you're finished?" Gillian asked, her voice going higher.

"When you're finished," Cal gave her a grin.

Gillian let out a slight laugh and lifted her hips off the bed again to encourage him. Cal obliged, taking his sweet time in bringing her to climax. Gillian cursed loudly as pleasure crashed down over her. She also cried out his name and something else: "Enough!" She told him, her face contorted into a frown as her body tensed rapidly. "Enough!" She repeated firmly. Cal got to his knees and leaned over her. He took a spare length of his tie around her right wrist and placed it in her left. Then he withdrew again to remove his underwear; it was almost at the point of being painful. While he stripped Gillian pulled on the material and the knot at her wrist collapsed. She pounced on him just as he was ready to re-approach her. "Mmmm," she moaned into his mouth as they kissed heatedly. Her fingernails trailed sharply down his chest and straight to his groin. She gripped him hard, squeezing almost painfully, but knowing the exact limit he could tolerate. Cal bit her lip, his hands around the back of her shoulders, pulling her in tightly. Gillian fell back slightly on to the mattress, so she was on her ass while Cal pushed forwards. She guided him into her as she lay back fully; Cal could hear her mutter another curse under her breath, in his ear.

"God Gillian," he groaned, needing a moment to gather his senses before he found purchase for his toes on the mattress to thrust into her again. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pulled at the hair at the base of his skull and then took his wrist to hold his hand. Cal looked down at her. "You're so bloody beautiful do you know that?"

Gillian gave him a solemn nod and then a sudden smile. She pushed him so he turned over and straddled herself over his hips. She whipped her tank top off over her head and balanced herself by pressing on his diaphragm. Cal gave a grunt and brought his hands up to her hips. Gillian dipped her head to give him a sweet kiss and Cal felt himself fighting for air. He caved first. He didn't mean to but he had been focussing on how damn sexy she looked instead of holding out for her. He brought his hand up quickly and Gillian ground down against him and his fingers quickly so she started shuddering too. She held herself up until Cal had finished then draped herself over his chest. Cal wrapped his arms around her back, holding onto her tightly.

"That was fantastic," Cal murmured.

"Ahumph," Gillian responded.


	19. Chapter 19

"Mum!"

Gillian flinched awake. "Lewis?"

"I had bad dream."

Gillian felt like the world was tilting on its axis where she lay, she was that tired. She was able to form enough coherent thought to shift over slightly so Lewis could climb into bed with her. She put her arm around him and fell asleep again almost immediately. She dreamt of the hospital. No matter what she did she wasn't able to get into Cal's room and it sent waves of anxiousness through her. She needed to get to him. There was no one else in the hallways; the nurses' station was perpetually empty. It was down to her. She had to get into that room.

Gillian was continually woken through the night by the sharp strikes of Lewis's feet against her and every time she drifted off again Cal's hospital room door loomed before her and an invisible barrier kept her out. Gillian shifted further along the mattress until she was on the edge of Cal's side of the bed (and it didn't smell like him anymore because she had had to wash the sheets, she couldn't leave them any longer) but Lewis seemed to be everywhere. In the end she got up. It was early morning but morning all the same. She may as well make a start on the day ahead.

Gillian went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of coffee. She didn't bother with breakfast. She hadn't eaten it in weeks. She just didn't feel like it. Her mother told her she had lost too much weight. Gillian hadn't noticed anything like that. Which wasn't to say it wasn't true, she just didn't notice. She had other things on her mind. Like Cal. And work. And Lewis.

It was his birthday yesterday. The four year old had cried all morning because Cal wasn't there to celebrate it. Even though he got the presents he wanted and had a party at the day care as well as at home, it just 'wasn't same'. And Gillian got the distinct impression Lewis was holding her responsible for that too. Gillian took Lewis up to the hospital later in the evening. Lewis brought Cal a balloon and one of his new toys to show him. The nursing staff made a big deal out of his visit, singing him 'happy birthday' much to his delight. All of it though, just made Gillian feel sad. It had been over a month and Cal had not improved in the slightest. The eye opening thing, it had been a false alarm. It had been a false sense of hope on her part. It had felt different and Rockwell had conceded that it very well could be. But when he went through the responsiveness checks with Cal there was what he considered to be 'no significant change'. She felt abandoned and alone and nothing had changed how she felt about that in the last month despite learning to rely on other people more.

After Gillian finished her coffee and had Lewis's lunch ready to go she went to wake him up. He blinked bleary eyes at her but looked well rested all the same; his dream was clearly forgotten as soon as he reached the comfort of his mother's bed. He sat for a moment and then gave a sigh before climbing out of bed. Gillian told him to go and get dressed while she did the same.

She dropped him off at Kate's but didn't stay for coffee or a chat. Lewis ran off to play with his cousins before he was taken to day care and they were taken to school in an hour's time. Gillian headed to the hospital. If she got there early enough she would be able to help with Cal's daily care routines. It was the closest she could get to feeling involved and still connected. Otherwise she was helpless to just sit there beside his bed. The first thing Gillian did when entering his room was check the whiteboard to see if it had been updated. His weight had gone up a little which was a good sign. Cal had a feeding tube directly to his stomach now that he was a long term patient. And it also meant his care staff were actively keeping him as healthy as possible.

Today, there was no change to Cal's Glasgow Coma Scale score. Two weeks ago it had upgraded to an eleven (E3 V3 M5; eyes had gained a point and so had his motor responses). Which had been thrilling, especially in light of the disappointment of the eye opening incident (despite what Rockwell said, Gillian was sure he had _looked_ at her, even if he didn't seem to recognise her or acknowledge her). Cal might mutter words now. Sometimes completely inappropriate words, but nothing that resembled a conversation. Gillian itched for conversation. But at least his eyes opened when she talked to him, especially when she leaned over the bed to give him a kiss. It was just that his eyes didn't tend to focus on her, or if they did, they were blank with no signs of recognition. He moved more purposefully too, when the pain tests were conducted, he moved his arms to fend it away. The gestures were slow but it almost seemed like he was in there. And that gave Gillian a surge of hope to see it. But that was two weeks ago. And now it had been a month in total and he was still not really awake. Cal was still classed in the 'moderate' grade of brain injury.

"Good morning," Julia greeted her pleasantly as she came into the room with her arms full of various supplies.

"Morning," Gillian responded.

Cal cracked his eyes open and muttered what sounded like 'Pluto' or could have been 'got to'. Gillian gave him a smile and his hand a squeeze. He was lying on his side facing her so his gaze did not reach her face and he didn't react to her touch. Gillian realised Julia was silent and looked up to find the nurse watching her. She forced another smile. "Can I do his teeth?"

"Sure," Julia responded handing over the spongy pad and a small white towel. Gillian leaned down towards Cal's head and tilted it back gently so she could get better access. She might not be very comfortable talking to him but now that he moved around a little on his own she was less worried about forcibly moving him or hurting him. Cal's eyes shifted to her face but remained blank. He could have been staring at the wall for all the recognition he showed. Gillian avoided his eyes and focused on his mouth. While she did that Julia dusted powder through Cal's hair that was meant to clean it. She brushed it through while Gillian finished up. She wiped Cal's lips clean tenderly. It was only when she had finished that she realised the two of them had worked in silence. She usually made small talk.

"I have to get going," Gillian decided.

"Off to work today?" Julia asked politely.

"Yeah," Gillian binned the sponge she had used on Cal's teeth. The towel she put in the laundry bin. She went back to the bed for her purse. Cal muttered something else but Gillian didn't catch much more than the rumble in his throat. "I'll be back later in the afternoon," she said by way of a goodbye.

Julia gave her a pleasant smile. "Ok see you later."

Gillian headed for the office. Her heart felt heavy today. It was probably because she had not slept well the night before and, she had just remembered, she had a meeting scheduled with Doctor Rockwell for later that afternoon to talk about Cal. She received a text as she drove and ignored it until she was parked at the Lightman Group building. It was from Emily. **C U THIS AFTERNOON?**

Which meant: do you want me to pick Lewis up from day care and meet you up at the hospital?

Gillian hit reply: **YES. THANKS**

She had new routines now. Kate took Lewis in the morning so Gillian could go to the hospital. Emily picked Lewis up from day care every other day (when she didn't have afternoon classes) and took him to the hospital to see their father. It allowed Gillian the time to be at work. On the weekends, Gillian's parents took Lewis for a few hours on a Saturday so Gillian could do errands or housework or go to see Cal, or sometimes, she took a much needed afternoon nap. Once, she had just sat there.

**PJ**

By the time Gillian headed up to her office the employees of the Lightman Group had arrived and were starting work for the day. Gillian collected her messages on her way past the reception desk. She powered up her computer in her office as she flicked through them, deciding which ones warranted an immediate response and which ones could wait. Then she checked her email; same deal. Then Cal's, same again. With the important messages answered Gillian headed to the lab to see what Ria, Eli and Paul were working on. Ria and Eli were looking into a embezzlement scheme while Paul was out of the office with Aiden, helping him interview a potential witness to a kidnapping. Satisfied that everything that end was under control, Gillian went back to her office to deal with the non-urgent messages and paperwork that ended up on her desk.

Just after lunch she went to check on Ria and Eli again. Paul had returned from the police department so Gillian gave him a brief of the next case to work through. The routine helped distract her from Cal. Phone calls from Casey did not.

"How are you doing today?"

"Fine," Gillian lied.

"Really," Casey's tone was heavy. "And Cal?"

"He's the same."

"Right and so how are you really?"

"Tired," Gillian admitted.

"Still not sleeping well?"

"Lewis came in in the night."

"How come?"

"Nightmare."

"Poor little guy. Is he still wetting the bed?"

Gillian realised she had forgotten to check that morning. Often when Lewis came in it was because he had wet the bed, even if his excuse was that he had had a bad dream. "Yes," Gillian also admitted. She turned her chair to face her windows, knowing this was going to be a long conversation. "Sometimes I think taking him up to see Cal is making the situation worse."

"It's a tough one," Casey agreed. "And you? Is going up to see Cal making the situation worse?"

"Casey," Gillian admonished lightly. "I'm not going to suddenly stop. He's my husband."

'_I have to see him_.'

"Yeah but seeing him that way is screwing with you honey."

"What do you want me to do?" Gillian's tone was suddenly hard. "Avoid him from now on?"

"No. I'm just saying. You need to lighten the load a little. How many times have you been to see him today?"

"Once," Gillian shot back.

"And when are you planning on going back?"

Gillian paused. "Half an hour. But that's because I'm meeting with Cal's doctor."

"And if you weren't?"

She would have gone at lunch and again that afternoon when Lewis was there and then again, possibly that evening, if Emily was willing to babysit for a little while.

"You're going to wear out," Casey added gently.

"You tell me this every time," Gillian responded.

"Are you listening yet? Because I'll keep on saying it until you hear me."

"What do you want me to do?" Gillian repeated. She already had other people looking after Lewis. Work ran itself these days. Her mother was making meals, despite Gillian's protests (and much to her chagrin of realising she actually was relieved she didn't have to come home and cook a meal for her son at the end of the day).

"Are you looking after yourself?"

"Yes."

Which was true. She showered and ate (less than she normally did but she was still eating nonetheless). She put on clean clothes every day, did laundry, changed the bed sheets. She cleaned the house or at least her mother did when she came around (despite Gillian's protests and much to her chagrin of realising she was actually relieved she didn't have to worry about it). She did her normal day things, make-up and putting gas in her car, making Lewis's lunch in the morning, reading to him at night.

"What about emotionally?"

"Isn't that what these phone calls are about?"

**PJ**

"It's been four weeks," Gillian started. She knew what this meeting was about. It had been four weeks that Cal had been comatose now (not counting the initial first week that he had been sedated, and while still technically comatose, not officially because he had been purposefully medicated).

Doctor Rockwell nodded. "Yes," he agreed. And he didn't have to add that it meant he was worried. Gillian could see that on his face and she had come to learn that she could read him easily. It had made their relationship and dealings very open, honest and sometimes, quite blunt.

"So," Gillian sighed. "What happens next?"

"Mostly we carry on with what we've been doing."

Which was simply looking after him; brushing his teeth, washing his hair, bathing him, turning him, making sure he was receiving the right nutrients, physical therapy to stop his muscles completely deteriorating. And every few days, MRI scans to monitor his brain and assessments to grade his alertness. It wasn't like they could force him to wake up.

"But?" Gillian added. There had to be a 'but' otherwise he would not have asked to have a sit down talk with her. On the other side of the hallway, in his room, opposite which Gillian was talking to the doctor, Cal jerked suddenly, causing the bed to creak and the IV line to sway gently. The seizures had stopped. The surgery had been a success. He wasn't even on anti-seizure medications anymore. That was at least something.

"But it is a concern that he hasn't woken up yet."

"He made improvements though," Gillian tried to remain hopeful.

Rockwell nodded. "And he may still do. I'm not saying he had a four week deadline to wake up in and now that he hasn't he's missed his opportunity."

"You're saying it's most usual for coma's to last up to four weeks and now that deadline is here and Cal is not awake..."

'_There was a chance he would never wake up_,' Gillian finished in her head. She fought down the urge to gag on the taste of that thought in her mouth.

Rockwell didn't answer her. "How are you doing?" He asked after a beat.

"Fine," she responded automatically. '_Devastated_.'

"And Lewis?"

"He's ok," Gillian nodded.

Rockwell sat there for a moment and Gillian found his gaze hard to be under. She picked at a fingernail. "Julia said you looked tired this morning," Rockwell noted.

"Lewis had a nightmare last night."

"How have you been sleeping?"

"It's difficult to sleep with a wriggling four year old."

"And otherwise?" Rockwell pressed.

Gillian gave an annoyed smile. "I'm fine ok? We should be focussing on Cal."

"It's my job to also focus on his family," Rockwell told her firmly.

"I'm just tired," Gillian relented. "Lewis kicks in his sleep."

"You need to look after yourself for Cal's sake."

"I do," she told him sharply.

"Ok," Rockwell finally backed down.

"Are we finished?"

"Yes."

Gillian got up and walked away, leaving the neurologist sitting there. She fought back a wave of frustrated tears. Her husband was in a coma, of course she wasn't ok. What did they want from her? Did they _want_ her to fall apart? Because she was only really just holding it together right now for the sake of the people around her. Lewis, the Lightman Group; they relied on her stability and strength. She couldn't and wouldn't let them see the cracks because then they would grow and spiral out of control. She had to maintain her careful balance.

Cal was alone in his room. Gillian automatically checked the white board but there were no changes. He was facing the other way now but Gillian didn't go for the chair because she wasn't going to stay. She just came to... well... check in on him. She gave his hand a squeeze and his cheek a kiss, just like she always did. His eyes cracked open just like they always did and they were blank, just like they always were.

Gillian knew there was support there for her if she wanted it. She knew she should be looking after her emotional needs too and that she was avoiding them right now but she felt strongly that she just shouldn't. Or couldn't. She felt like if she started she would literally fall apart and then what good would she be to Cal or Lewis? When Cal was around she could fall apart all she wanted because he was always there to pick up the pieces. He would take care of Lewis and her at the same time and she felt safe to do so. But in this situation she felt acutely alone. She didn't want to degrade herself into a vulnerable state. Not when there wasn't someone there to hold her hand and guide her back up. Sure, Casey had taken it upon herself to make regular phone calls and Gillian was grateful for the chance to at least talk to someone else, outside her immediate vicinity, about what was going on. All the better that Casey was in New York and didn't show up on her doorstep at the times Gillian wanted to be alone the most.

Gillian stood for a moment watching Cal. His eyes closed again. She waited a moment longer and then gave his hand another squeeze. "I'm going back to work," she told him, giving his temple a kiss. His hair had grown out where they had shaved it. The staples holding his scalp together were long gone and someone had come by to give him a haircut last week so his hair was even and the scar was covered. He looked tidy with a trim, almost normal, and it had confused Gillian for a day because she expected him to look like a mess. He didn't. He looked tidy and kept. They even cut his fingernails. It was all just so normal it made her angry.

A lot of things made her angry. The fact that her son was regressing. The fact that she spent her nights alone. The fact that she could no longer talk to her best friend. The fact that she could no longer kiss her husband. The fact that she had no fucking control of any of it.


	20. Chapter 20

Cal pulled his shirt off over his head and caught his wife's reflection in the mirror. She was also stripping down for bed and he had looked up in time to see her standing in her bra, undoing her skirt at the side. He watched her for a moment as she popped the delicate catch at the side. She fumbled with it for a moment then unclasped it and pulled down the hidden zipper. She let it fall to the floor then stooped to pick it up and stood in her underwear while she hooked it back onto a hangar and put it in the wardrobe. Cal draped his shirt over the end of the bed. Good lord she looked fantastic. He undid his work pants next and draped them over his shirt. He peeled off his socks and heaved them into the washing basket through the open bathroom door. When he turned around he found Gillian watching him. She was in underwear and a tank top.

"You're starin'," he told her as he climbed beneath the covers.

"Your own fault," she retorted, crossing the room to pull back the blanket on her side of the mattress.

"Is that so?" Cal asked lightly looking down the front of her shirt.

"Yeah," she told him. They settled and reached to turn out the lights. Cal rolled over to face his wife and waited. She stayed on her side of the bed.

"What are you doin' ova there?" He asked with mock offence.

"Taking my watch off."

Cal heard the clink of it against the polished wood of her bedside table as she put it down, then her legs pressing between his, her hips, her arms around his shoulder, her face pressing against his and finally she arched her back to press her stomach against his, so they were chest to chest and he could feel the entire length of her body running down his. He suppressed a shiver.

"If you can't behave I'll go back over there," Gillian told him softly.  
>Cal grinned. "Natural response."<p>

"How about a little making out?"

"Hmmm," Cal pretended to think.

"Shut up," Gillian muttered before pulling his lips towards hers with a hand on his jaw. She tasted like mint. Sweet mint though. Gillian's mouth was warm and her fingers gripped him tightly. Cal snaked his hand into the small of her back and then down over her backside. He gave it a squeeze and she gave another hungry little sound in the back of her throat.

Cal pulled away to catch his breath. Gillian trailed kisses along his jaw until she ran out of breath too and turned to lie on her back. "Kissin' you is dangerous."

"What?" She gave a slight laugh.

"Yep, my heart beats too fast so I could have a heart attack. You steal my breath away so I could suffocate. And I lose all coherent thought so I'm basically a basket case."

Gillian laughed and turned to him again. "Sometimes you can really shovel it, you know." She pressed him back with a hand on his shoulder so she could lean over him. She kissed him again. "But sometimes it really is very entertaining to hear."

Cal gave a light chuckle. "I'm glad I entertain you."

"Why do you think I keep you around?" She asked so innocently Cal laughed again. Gillian shifted and settled with her head on his shoulder, her hand gripped the edge of his shoulder. She gave a content sigh.

"Here I thought it was cos I'm good in bed." He felt her giggle.

"Well there _is_ that."

Cal grinned to himself. "You think things are good at the moment?"

"Yeah, why?"

"No, no why. Just, you think things are good at the moment?"

"Yes."

"Me too."

"Good."

"Yeah," Cal agreed.

Gillian petted his arm. "I do have something I want to talk to you about."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Go on then."

"You're going to listen and not get all defensive?"

"Probably not."

"Never mind then."

"No I'll listen."

"And not get defensive?"

"I said I'd listen," Cal told her faking an even tone.

"Paul."

"What about him?"

"When are you going to let him out of limbo?"

"I don't know luv."

Gillian was silent for a moment. So Cal took that opportunity to pry. "Has he said somethin' to you?"

"No. I was thinking about it today. You always take Ria or Eli with you if you need back up. Since it came out about his fiancée you've basically disregarded him."

"Well," Cal started defensively and then he stopped himself abruptly. "All right. That's probably fair to say."

"I know you don't like that he lied to you."

"It wasn't like I was unaware."

"He played with you."

"There is that."

"And the only person who is allowed to play with you is me," Gillian finished in a tone that said she was reciting the line from memory and had heard it before. She had.

"That's right," Cal agreed. "Rudeness completely intended."

Gillian ignored him. "So you're not going to let him play in the big boy's sandpit again?"

"Well, we only hired him cos you were home with Lewis and Lily and now that Lewis is spendin' more time at day care you're spendin' more time at work and..."

"You don't want him around at all?" Gillian asked in surprise.

"No, that's not what I'm sayin' at all," Cal backtracked. "I have no idea what I'm sayin'. I'm musin' aloud. Is that allowed?"

"Yes that's allowed."

"I know you like him."

"I see potential."

"I do too," Cal begrudgingly admitted.

"But?"

"But," Cal tried. "I've got nothin'."

"Hm," Gillian.

"Don't think this means you've won."

"I wouldn't think anything of the sort," she responded softly, shifting her head to kiss his cheek.

**PJ**

"Hey," Gillian stuck her head through Cal's office. "Got a minute?"

"For you my darlin' always."

"That's sweet, but Eli needs help with a case."

"All right," Cal got up from his desk. Gillian had already disappeared as he reached the door. He found her again in the lab. Cal took a seat in the middle of the room.

"Jonathon Hall," Eli started to brief. "Foreman for Gerber Construction." He pronounced the 'G' hard, like grate. He also had a picture of the man in his late forties, wearing clichéd flannel and a white hardhat. "He's worked for the company for fifteen years. Started out as an apprentice." Cal swivelled his chair back and forth as he listened.

"Three of the four accidents happened while he was on site," Eli continued.

"That doesn't make him responsible," Gillian piped up from the side. She was handwriting notes.

"No," Eli agreed. "But as the foreman he bears the responsibility for the site."

"What did you get from him?" Cal asked. "Cos I assume you went to talk to him and there was somethin' in there considerin' you're now briefin' me?"

"Well," Eli gave a slow exhale. "I thought I saw something like fear on him but it was kind of hard to tell. There were a lot of distractions around."

"Have you uploaded the footage?" Gillian asked him.

"Of course," Eli pointed the little remote in his hand at the receiver. The image of Hall on the screen behind him came to life. The picture was jumpy, from a hand held camera and wind in the microphone distorted the sound. "But it's hard to get anything from that either," he responded glumly. "It was really windy that day."

"Bloody hell," Cal murmured.

"You could have gone back," Gillian pointed out.

"Well actually," Eli looked down at his feet for a second. "I might have been asked to leave the site and not come back."

Cal gave a sudden grin. "Brilliant. What's Ria up to today?"

"Working the Bronson case," Gillian answered.

"Fancy a road trip?" Cal asked her.

"I'm helping her," she gave him a sweet smile.

"Sounds like an excuse to me," Cal responded.

"It was," Gillian got to her feet. "But it's also true." She flashed another smile as she pressed her notes against his chest and headed for the door.

Cal took hold of the pad of paper before it tumbled to the floor. He looked over at Eli. "All right then. Betta give me an address."

**PJ**

Cal strode into Gillian's office. She was on the phone but signalled she would be just a minute and that he should wait. When she hung up she gave him a smile. "What's up?"

"Just came to say I'm goin' out."

"Ok."

"Be back late-a."

"Ok," she said again.

"And I'm takin' Roberts with me."

Gillian gave him another slight smile in response. She didn't have to say anything. He knew.

"Love you."

"Love you too," she said softly, conscious of the fact that her office door was wide open. Cal gave her a grin and wandered off again. For some reason she felt compelled to call out for him to be careful. She hadn't seen anything sinister in Hall's video interview, just a fleeting feeling that he wasn't going to be entirely happy about a second Lightman Group employee showing up to accuse him. She didn't though. She let her husband go with the endearment hanging in the air.

Cal walked up to Doctor Roberts who was hovering near the entrance with a bag of recording equipment over his shoulder. "Let's go then," Cal said to him as he breezed by and out the door, not waiting to see if the psychologist followed along behind him. They drove in relative silence. Roberts asked Cal what the plan of attack was. Cal gave a shrug. Did he ever have a plan of attack? He didn't think so. He told Roberts they were there to talk to Hall so they would start with him. Loker had already given him a heads up on what they were talking about when Hall had flashed what looked like a partial fear expression. But Cal would find his own way there. Just like he always did.

The construction site was in the middle of a dry landscape. It had not rained in several weeks, a mini drought at the start of summer. The wind whipped dust into Cal's eyes as they made their way across the yard and he had to blink furiously for several seconds, taking blind steps across the bare earth, to clear his vision. Several of the men on site passively watched them make their way, two men in suits. As they reached the structure they were stopped. A man in a white wife beater told them it was a private site and asked what they were doing there.

"I'm here for Mista Hall," Cal told him neutrally. He was eyed up and down for a moment and he stood bored through the scrutiny.

"What about?"

"That's between me and him," Cal gave a slight jerk of his chin.

More scrutiny. "You'll have to wear a hard hat if you're going to wander around here. It can be dangerous."

"Got a spare?"

"Yeah one," the retort was quick and bit out. Cal held out his hand for it. The man turned to a work bench behind him and grabbed a light blue safety helmet and tossed it to Cal's chest.

He caught it easily. "Mista Hall then?" Cal asked dumping the hat on his head unfazed. He felt Roberts shift to his other foot behind him.

"He's got the corner office," the man sneered and Cal wondered why there was so much contempt from this man he had never laid eyes on before. It was certainly worth noting and almost definitely worth coming back to. Actually, he might take a minute to do that now.

"Cal," he extended his hand.

The man gave him surprised expression. He gripped Cal's, "Victor."

"You second in charge here Victa?" Cal asked him.

The man puffed up a little. His head was shaved but not because he was losing his hair. His eyes were a bright blue. He was muscled and tanned and now that Cal was showing him some respect, his entire demeanour shifted from slightly threatening to comfortable, almost friendly, like Cal was one of the boys. "Yeah," he answered with the slightest hint of a challenge.

"How long you worked for Hall?"

"Few years now."

"You don't like him much?"

"Never said that," his arms folded across his muscled chest. But his nostril flare said that he had some sort of problem with his boss.

"What about the rest of the crew?" Cal glanced around. Apparently it was smoko for quite a few of them.

A shoulder shrug. "They like him enough at the end of the week when they get a check."

Cal wondered if his employees felt the same way about him. Once upon a time yes. And now? Roberts probably did. Cal had been distant with him since the debacle last year. It wasn't that Cal wanted to punish the younger man, it was just that he had a really hard time trusting people who lied to him. He had never openly slighted Roberts, or excluded him from a case or interview or some little pearl of wisdom Cal felt he could share. But his heart had closed off a little and no amount of gentle persuasion from Gillian could change how he felt inside. Even if he tried. He did try. He needed to get there on his own. It wasn't something that could be forced.

"What about the men around here who were hurt?"

"Who are you anyway?" Victor straightened up and stepped towards Cal.

"Corna office then?" Cal quickly backed away and made his way around the building. On the northern corner scaffolding stretched around the structure. At the bottom another tanned young man was firing a nail gun into studs. When he paused Cal stopped him to ask where Hall was. The young man gave him a suspicious expression and gestured upwards. Cal looked up the height of the scaffolding, roughly five stories above him. At the top was a man in a red hardhat.

"There's a ladder there," the young man pointed.

Cal thanked him and headed over to it. "Should I stay here?" Roberts asked.

"Why don't you go back and talk to Victa?" Cal suggested.

Roberts gave a nod and moved away. Cal started to climb. He was grateful he was fit. Five stories up on a ladder while wearing a suit and his nice 'work' shoes was hard going. Especially in the warm days of early summer. At the top, Cal could see Hall was not alone. There was another man up there and it appeared they were having an argument. "Who are you?" Hall asked, approaching quickly.

"Docta Lightman," Cal extended his hand. Hall shook it while giving him a suspicious expression. The other man quickly disappeared down the ladder. "Got a minute to chat?"

"About what?"

"You've had a recent spate of work-place related injuries," Cal started.

Hall immediately shifted into an offensive position. Cal's first thought was that Hall was not responsible, but was aware of who was, or at least had a few ideas on the subject. Cal raised his hands in a sign of parley, "I'm just here to talk, not make accusations."

In his mind, Cal could see Gillian smirking when she heard about that statement. But it was the right way to play this. Hall visibly relaxed but was still clearly cautious. He asked where Cal was from and who gave him permission to get involved.

"I'm from the Lightman Group," Cal started, watching how Hall went back to defensive.

"I've already had one of your lot here talking to my men and making a nuisance of himself. I'm a busy man and we're behind by two weeks already. I don't want that margin to get any bigger while you poke your nose in."

"Yeah I know," Cal quickly agreed. "He's a right nuisance that one. Why send a boy to do a man's job right?" Hall gave the slightest of nods and Cal knew he had him.

"You're the boss?"

"Yep," Cal let himself puff up in pride. "I'm the boss. So now I'm askin' you, one boss to anotha, on behalf of _your_ boss, what's been goin' on around here?"


	21. Chapter 21

_AN: slightly M section_

**PJ**

Gillian went back to work and then a few hours later she was back at the hospital with Emily and Lewis. Lewis had brought home a painting from day care and Gillian suggested they leave it there for Cal. Lewis liked that idea. She figured somewhere in his mind he had convinced himself Cal woke up and that happened to occur when he wasn't around, that Cal just happened to be asleep every time Lewis happened to stop by. Gillian didn't have any ideas on dispelling that belief, not without completely shattering the illusion that Cal might wake up for real one day.

They stayed for an hour then Gillian announced it was time to go home for dinner. Emily said she would stay a little longer, just like she always did, so that she could spend some time with her father alone. Gillian gave a smile, told Lewis to take his bag. He ran from the room ahead of her. "Hey Gill," Emily called to her from the bed. Gillian turned back expectantly. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah I'm fine," she responded with a small smile. "Just tired."

Emily gave a nod and Gillian left the room. At least she no longer had to worry about the younger woman. Emily was dealing with things in a normal way. She had been shocked and then angry and she had dealt. She had leaned on her husband and he had asked Gillian for advice and twenty years of experience had flowed out of her mouth. It was a shame she couldn't take her own advice.

Gillian took Lewis home. The house was empty but dinner was in the oven with reheating instructions and there was a fresh pile of laundry folded on the table. Gillian asked Lewis if he was hungry and he nodded. She turned the oven on and told him he had twenty minutes to play before it was dinner time. He nodded to that too. Gillian went to her room and kicked off her shoes. She felt cold, despite it being another summer day. It was cloudy though and windy and she just felt cold.

Gillian picked out a change of casual clothes and laid them on the bed. She was going to have a shower to warm up and straighten out her thoughts again. Cal always said he did his thinking while in the shower. Stepping under the warm water Gillian remembered other things they did in the shower. Like the morning of the accident. Their anniversary. They had fooled around in bed and even more in the shower because it was the only space of theirs with a lock on it. Heat flooded straight to her groin and she reached to turn the water temperature up to try and drown it out. Cal had insisted on christening every room. He was serious. He told her he was keeping a list and crossing them off. She had laughed at him and then he had played the anniversary card.  
>Gillian closed her eyes, trying to force the thoughts away. That didn't help much. She could see him now. His naked, wet body. His hair sticking up at the back where he had slept on it. His naked body. '<em>Oh god<em>,' she groaned. She could almost feel his hands on her hips as he had pulled her close against him, firmly but carefully, because she could slip if he threw her off balance. Her blood started to pound and she could feel her cheeks flush with the heat of the memory and the water. She tried to stop it again. She should change the subject. But she could feel his hand on her breast too, the rough scratch of his stubble against her sensitive neck. She had begged him to touch her.

Gillian could feel her nipples tingle and her hand shifted to brush firmly against them, trying to release the tension. Her other hand found the glass of the shower cubicle and she turned her back to the hot water. '_I can see you in the mirror_,' Cal murmured into her ear as his hand slid around the front of her hip to her thigh. She could feel him hard against her back. Clearly seeing their foggy outlines in the steamy mirror was a real turn on for him. She let him have it. She didn't like it when she couldn't hold on to him but she let him press into her from behind. '_Open your eyes_,' Cal whispered.

Gillian could see herself standing there, her own hand pressing between her legs, desperate for the feelings to stop but loathe to close out the memories. She clamped her lids shut again and took a deep steadying breath. She had a handle on this.

'_You look so sexy_,' Cal's voice caressed over her. She gave a whimper and pressed into him harder, begging him again to touch her. She could feel his fingers and she shifted her legs further apart to give him better access. His chest pressed tightly against hers as he applied pressure and stroked and teased. She could feel him breathing heavily, feel his excitement in the length of his body. '_Oh god Gillian_,' he had moaned.

"Cal!" She cried out as she brought herself to climax, her legs shaking and her grip tight on the edge of the shower wall. As soon as the high came down guilt flooded in and she started to cry. She had always claimed Cal was enough for her. She had never ever felt the need to touch herself since being with him. Not once. He had satisfied her needs in every way. And now... now she had broken that silent record. Even when he had gone away on business, even after Lewis had been born... she had waited for him. She had found the self control and patience and now... now she had shattered that illusion. She felt like she had betrayed him, worse, she felt like she had betrayed herself.

**PJ**

Gillian stared at the desktop of her computer for a moment. No, she couldn't remember whatever it was that she was going to do. Sun poured through the windows behind her warming her back, almost to the point of being uncomfortable, but it was lovely. Today was a better day. Lewis had stayed in his bed two nights in a row and she had managed to sleep without being disturbed, even if it did take her a long time to drift off and she still happened to wake early.

Yesterday (or more accurately last night when she had been lying awake alone in bed) she had managed to sink as low as thinking it would be better if Cal was dead. She figured then, at least, she would be able to move on. Grieve for him and get over it (not that she thought she would ever really get over it. It was Cal after all. The love of her life. Her best friend). This was a cruel kind of limbo he was keeping her in and it was grating on her nerves. She hated to wait and it was acutely worse in this case because there was no defined timeline as to when the waiting would end. Lights tended to only stay red for a few minutes. Surgeries kept her worrying for a few hours. Coma's had the potential to drag out for years.

'_Please don't let it come to that_.'

Gillian went back to scanning through the report she was reading. Whatever had triggered her to focus on the computer was gone again. It happened often throughout the day, half thoughts biting at the heels of her brain, and once again, her mind drifted to Cal. Last night, when she had taken Lewis up to the hospital, he had muttered a distinct word: pizza. It had made Lewis giggle and Gillian found herself laughing lightly with him. Lewis told Cal he was silly. He didn't seem to mind that Cal never answered him. He chatted away to him about his day, practising his signs and words, correcting himself if he got it wrong. He still had speech therapy once a week but it was more like a formality these days. He spoke well enough for a four year old. Some people told Gillian they were amazed with how clear his pronunciation was.

At least something was going right.

Gillian turned back to the page in front of her for the fifth time. She focused until she reached the bottom and flipped the paper back to carry on reading the next. Her phone gave a brief chime to signal a text message had come through and vibrated several times. The message was from Emily; her perfunctory: ** C U THIS AFTERNOON?**

Gillian immediately responded with her standard answer: **YES C U USUAL TIME**

She checked the clock on her computer. In a few hours she would leave for the hospital and meet Emily and Lewis there.

And then back to the report. She made it half way through the next page before remembering what she had wanted to do on the computer. She needed to make a transfer to cover the outgoing insurance costs of the business, which was due tomorrow and they were in one of those lull periods where their outgoing costs were more than their income. After that was done, it was back to the report. After five minutes of scanning her eyes along the page Gillian realised she hadn't absorbed a word of it. She had no idea what she had just read. With a sigh she pushed back her chair from the desk. Sometimes it was so difficult to focus. She got up. Coffee would help her concentrate better. Or really, just taking a break was probably what she needed.

"Hey Gillian."

"Hey Paul," she half turned to him with a smile as he fell into step with her while she walked down the hallway.

"I was just on my way to see you."

"I'm just getting coffee," Gillian explained. She was about to add that she would be just a minute and then back in her office so they could talk.

"It's ok, it's a quick question."

"Shoot," Gillian suggested as she pushed open the door to the break room and entered.

Paul followed. "I was wondering if you read the report I wrote on the frequency of..." he watched her face for signs of recognition.

"I'm reading it now," Gillian reached for the coffee pot. "I'm sorry it's taken so long to get back to you."

"Not a problem," Paul waved a hand to show he wasn't bothered.

"Ok," Gillian gave a relieved smile. She had increased her hours at work steadily as she had found a routine, but it didn't serve her well at all to be distracted when she was actually there.

"I was thinking about submitting it to a psychology journal."

"I'll make sure I finish looking at it today," Gillian promised.

"That would be great thank you," the corner of Paul's mouth twitched a little. Despite his nonchalance, it was important to him. He walked away and Gillian vowed that she would concentrate and actually read the thing and give him some feedback.

She took her coffee back to her desk and turned the report back to the previous page. She sipped the hot beverage while she read again, this time focussing on the words and what was being said. She reached for a pencil to make a note in the margin.

The break must have done her good because she was avidly reading when her phone started ringing. She reached for it absently. "Yes?" She answered.

"Mrs Lightman? It's Julia from Washington Hospital."

Gillian ripped her focus away from the report. Her gaze fell on the photo on her desk of her, Cal and Lewis. "Yes?" Gillian prompted.

"Doctor Rockwell asked me to call you to let you know that Cal is awake."

Gillian's stomach clenched and her heart rate slowed. The room seemed suddenly silent and still. "Sorry?" She practically whispered into the phone, sure she had misheard.

"Cal is awake," Julia spoke clearly.

"Awake?"

"Yes he's lucid. He's a little confused but he's talking to Doctor Rockwell now."


	22. Chapter 22

It was terribly sunny and the sky was the colour of Gillian's eyes; clear and completely cloud free. Cal watched a lone bird make its way along thermals before disappearing beneath the rising skyline of trees at a nearby park. Below him the construction crew went about their business. No one seemed in a particular rush and it created a stark contrast from the often bustling building Cal worked in. '_No sense of urgency_,' he thought to himself. If his staff wandered around this casually he would be yelling orders to get them moving again.

Jonathon Hall had been the foreman for Gerber construction for the last three years. He had been with the company for fifteen and made his way up. He had the respect of a lot of the men, particularly those who had been there as long as, or longer than he had. Cal asked him about the second in charge, Victor. Hall looked away to the right, to the roof of the neighbouring building. Cal followed his gaze, to see if there was anything interesting to observe there. But Hall was apparently just collecting himself to answer.

"We've had our difficulties."

The way his eyes fluttered told Cal he was thinking of an incident, or perhaps several, in particular. Victor didn't strike Cal as the type he would want as his number two. Victor seemed like the kind of guy who wanted to do things his way or no way at all.

"How long as he been two I.C?"

"About six months I guess."

"Was he promoted from within the ranks?"

"Yeah."

"And who promoted him?"

"That would have been Harrison's idea."

"And Harrison is?"

"You could say he's the CEO."

"He on the crew?"

"No," Hall shook his head. His safety helmet shifted slightly at the movement and he brought up a hand absently to straighten it again.

"He sits in his office all day and calls the shots then?"

Hall's lips twitched a little with something he wanted to but didn't say.

"The recent accidents," Cal changed the subject. By the expression on the foreman's face he also changed is wording. "They weren't accidents at all were they?"

Hall didn't answer Cal. He moved across the platform to lean on the railing. Cal followed him unperturbed. From this position he could see Doctor Roberts talking to Victor. He had his camera out, held at shoulder height while they conversed. Victor seemed cautious, from what Cal could see at this height. Roberts he couldn't read at all. His back was to him.

"You think someone is tryin' to sabotage the build?" Cal asked Hall. Hall didn't verbally answer him. "You think someone is tryin' to sabotage you?" He read a 'yes' off the foreman. He turned to face Cal and suddenly looked surprised.

The railing Cal was leaning on started to quiver. Then the entire scaffolding graduated to a violent quaking. Within half a second a frightening groan started and he felt his grip start to loosen on the metal bar as the entire platform dipped severely on the north side and his feet just about came out from under him. He wondered if he could get to the stairs in time and descend safely. That was all the thought he had time for before gravity took hold of his body. It coaxed him in one direction as the structure he was standing on started to collapse, and then another direction entirely without any gentle preamble. Cal was aware he was turning over and over, his arms and legs flailing as they connected with various points of solidity as he fell. Soon it wasn't occasional connection but metal pipes and wooden boards banging into him from all directions. His control of the situation fell away faster than his vision clouding over as his head connected sickeningly with strengthened steel. He had one last coherent thought of 'no!' and a glimpse of the brilliant blue sky before everything ceased to move or make a sound and it went dark.

**PJ**

"Gillian," the voice at the door was stressed, high pitched and strained and Gillian looked up in surprise from her phone. She had been busted texting Cal. It was Ria. She looked pale. "It's Cal." And with two words Gillian had gone from a little surprised, mostly concerned, to agonisingly scared.

"What?" She started with a suddenly dry mouth.

"I'm not sure. But there was some kind of accident," Ria started to explain. She came into the room by a few steps. "Paul called me. There's an ambulance and the fire department."

'_Car accident_,' Gillian finished in her mind. "Do they know if?" She was frustrated with her own inability to finish a sentence. She also realised she hadn't moved. She had stood but she hadn't started to put her phone in her bag so she did so now.

"They're getting to him," Ria answered. Gillian was glad the younger woman knew what she was talking about. Strangely, she wasn't feeling entirely freaked out. Her heart was on edge but for whatever reason, it was being logical. There was no need to panic until she knew what was going on. Cal had been in car accidents before. Two that Gillian knew about anyway. And she had been in one. A serious one. But she was still here today and so was Cal and he would get through this one too. If Paul had rung Ria and he was in the car with Cal then it couldn't be too bad right?

"You to the hospital," Ria was saying.

"I'm ok. I can head over there," Gillian countered. "I'll call you later." She had her phone. She had her purse. What else did she need? What was the time? She stood there, at a loss for a moment. Ria came around the desk and took her arm, gently pulling her in the right direction. Gillian allowed herself to be guided and then she gathered herself again and started walking purposefully. She thanked Ria for telling her. She asked whereabouts Paul was. Was he at the hospital getting checked out? Gillian suggested Eli go and get him and take him home if he was able to. She kept clinging on to the fact that Ria had talked to Paul. If he had been in the car then it can't have been that serious could it?

"Do you want me to come with you?" Ria asked her.

"No, it's fine thank you," Gillian responded as she walked away. She didn't need every man and his dog down there with her. Half way there she suddenly figured this couldn't have been a simple car accident. This was something else. Something serious had happened to Cal. While no one had actually said the words she realised she could read it on the faces around her and in the tone of voice. The way Ria had looked so stricken; her voice had been so strange, high pitched, panicked. Gillian was surprised to find herself in shock. She must have been if she only noticed now.

She rushed from the car and into the hospital, quickly asking at the emergency desk where her husband was. She was directed to a trauma room. She could wait outside while they worked on her husband. Gillian was guided across a hallway to a series of internal windows. The first was empty as she strode past it. The second held a woman who was hooked up to monitors. Her eyes were closed and she had a blanket up to her armpits. She looked like she was asleep. In the corner was a nurse. Gillian was stopped outside of the third window. A man in scrubs blew out of the room hurriedly and she tried to stop him to ask for information.

He confirmed that Lightman was within. That was all he could say. He was in a hurry. Gillian wondered why he was rushing in the opposite direction. Her eyes were drawn to the room. In the centre was a man on the bed. His black trousers were covered in dust. He had a yellow neck braced strapped around his throat. There were a lot of medical staff administering to him, inserting needles, setting up fluid lines, applying pressure to wounds, talking to each other in urgent tones, making demands, calling out for drugs with complicated pronunciations. Gillian stared and stared as gauze soaked through red and a tube was inserted down the man's throat. Her hands gripped the window sill too tightly, until pain shot up through her fingers. The nurses and doctors parted for a moment just as a nurse was swapping out the gauze on his head and Gillian could see a gaping red wound and the stark white of bone. She felt sick. And there were tears on her cheeks. But it was Cal. That was definitely her husband.

**PJ**

Gillian wasn't sure she stopped properly at intersections in her rush to get to the hospital. When she pulled into a park she realised she hadn't even put her seatbelt on. Lewis would tell her off for that. She rushed inside and to the bank of elevators that would take her to the ward where Cal had been for the last forty days. She watched the numbers glow as she travelled up several floors. They seemed to be on a purposeful go slow. They didn't normally travel this painfully did they? Thank god no one else wanted to get on. Gillian was pretty sure she would go them. Or rush for the stairs and race the elevator up. Her heart was pounding with the anticipation. Cal was awake. He was lucid. He was talking. He was actually having a conversation.

Gillian rushed out of the elevator to a deserted corridor. As she went by the nurses' station she noticed it was unmanned. She took a few quick steps, her heels clicking against the linoleum floor, as she hurried towards Cal's room. She rounded the corner and stopped. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but somewhere in her fantasies there had been images of Cal sitting up, alert, making eye contact, and talking. She was surprised to find him still lying down, on his side, where someone had turned him to stop pressures sores from forming. His eyes were closed and the room was quiet again. The only difference was that one of his hands was tucked under his pillow; like he sometimes slept at home, which meant he had clearly moved of his own volition. Doctor Rockwell looked over from the whiteboard where he was updating Cal's Glasgow Coma score. "Hi," he greeted her with a smile but in a quiet tone of voice, like he was trying not to disturb someone who was asleep.

Was Cal asleep?

Doctor Rockwell approached her quickly with a smile and guided her back out into the corridor by her elbow. Sometimes, Gillian felt like the medical staff handled her just as expertly as they handled Cal. "I got a phone call," she started to explain.

"Yes I know," Rockwell sounded excited. "It's great news. I've updated Cal's GCS score to thirteen."

"Thirteen?" Gillian cut in confused. "I thought the highest score is fifteen?"

"It is," Rockwell confirmed. "But remember, coma patients don't suddenly sit up in bed ready to have a conversation and run a marathon. His movements are still a little slow. He's confused about where he is right now and what happened to him but we did talk and I let him know you were on your way to see him."

Gillian felt stunned. She had seen too many movies where coma patients suddenly woke and were discharged the next day. Rockwell had been telling her for weeks that this would be a slow process. Cal would have months of rehabilitation to probably even get to the point where he could come home and then it would continue on for months after that. Of course he wasn't going to suddenly be able to hold a conversation with her. Desperation made her expect more. "So he's non-responsive now?"

"He's resting," Rockwell corrected. "There will be short periods during the day where he is lucid and they will steadily increase as the days go by."

"But can I talk to him?" Gillian clarified.

"Of course, you can go in. We'll talk tomorrow about where to go from here; rehab facilities et cetera."

"Thank you," Gillian murmured with a nod. She started to turn away, wanting to dismiss the doctor and search out her husband. She forced herself to turn back. "No really thank you. For everything."

Rockwell gave her an easy smile. His hand came out to squeeze her arm gently. "Not a problem at all." His head gave a sub-conscious jerk towards Cal's room and Gillian was released. She stepped forward with sudden trepidation. Her stomach somersaulted itself into knots and fell into her abdomen heavily. What was she going to say to him? After all this time. She knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to call him a bastard. For leaving her. She wanted to cry all over him and feel the comfort of his arms. But this wasn't a movie and she knew logically that she couldn't do that. He might not even hear her calling his name right now. Or he might be unable to respond. She didn't know how it worked. She just knew that once again, she had to keep everything in check. This wasn't about her. This was about Cal.

The room was silent as she entered and suddenly her irrational subconscious need to be quiet because Cal was asleep was no longer completely unfounded. Her gaze drifted over to the whiteboard and she could see his new updated score. E4 – the highest rating for eyes; they opened spontaneously. V4 – the patient responded to questions coherently but was confused and disorientated. M5 – purposeful pain response movement. It made her stomach flutter with happiness but when she turned to look down at Cal she could see his eyes weren't moving behind the lids and he was so still. It looked like he was still unresponsive and she wondered if she shook him by the shoulder would he stir? She really wanted to talk to him. To have _him_ talk to _her_.

Gillian didn't reach for him though. She took a seat beside the bed. Like she had done so for the last forty days. Over half of May, almost over half of July. In total it was just over a month but it felt so much longer. And now here she was on the cusp of change and yet something was holding it all back. It was like taking a giant leap forward with all her might to only find she had moved just a few centimetres. It was like running the race of her life only to lose at the last minute. '_Work with me here Cal_,' she begged silently, staring at his face, willing him to open his eyes and look at her. Really _look_ at her.

Gillian reached forward and wrapped her fingers around his warm left hand. It was lying extended against the bed. His right hand was tucked under the pillow near his head. He slept like that at home and she wished they were at home. She wouldn't think twice about jumping on the bed to wake him up. It never bothered him when she did that. He never complained. He can't have liked it. It pissed Gillian off when Lewis did it to her. So why did Cal put up with it?

"Cal I'm here," she spoke gently. She wondered if he was asleep, just had his eyes closed, or was unconscious all over again. He stirred a little and her heart soared high with hope. But he settled again and she felt crushed. All this up and down was destroying her. Maybe Casey was right, she should take something to help. She was starting to feel like her determined resolve was no longer enough.

Gillian stared avidly for fifteen minutes straight. Her fingers absently caressed his but he didn't stir again or move and after a while she relaxed again. The waiting killed her but she had been doing it for over a month now so she was used to it. Right? Gillian turned to the window. She noticed it was sunny. Had it been sunny that morning? How long had she been wandering around in a daze? In the beginning, sure, but then in the middle things had gotten better and now... now it seemed like she was back to square one.

She felt Cal tighten his grip against her fingers and her eyes drifted back to his face. He often twitched but then she saw his eyes were fluttering open and he looked out at her. He _looked_ at her. With recognition. His lip curled slightly as he turned his head away from the pillow so his mouth wouldn't be muffled. "What are you doin' here Fosta?"


	23. Chapter 23

"Fosta."

Gillian was stunned. The shock must have registered on her face because Cal gave her a bleary eyed frown. "You all right?"

"I should be asking you that," she blurted. Her heart was still beating right? Because it felt like it had stopped right now. Was he pulling her leg? Was this a fucking joke? Cal rolled further back on to his shoulder and eyed her up through half closed lids. "Do me a fava?"

She nodded dumbly. Now her heart was racing (but was she breathing? Because it felt like she was holding her breath) and she suddenly felt as if she were in a dream. Was Cal really talking to her? Like nothing had happened? Please don't let this be a dream.

"It's a bit bright in here."

"Oh," Gillian looked again at the window. "I can turn the blinds."

"Thanks luv."

She got up and walked around the bed, twisting the blinds so they were half closed. The room got dimmer and more intimate and her stomach swirled with so many thoughts and emotions she didn't even know where to start in trying to straighten them out. She sat again in her chair, this time keeping her hand to herself. "How do you feel?" She asked, aware it was a stupid question, but having to know all the same. Forty days of silence afforded her the right to ask stupid questions.

"All right," Cal responded in a low tone. "Dizzy. Kind of weird, you know?"

"Yeah sure," Gillian agreed. No, she had no idea. "Do you want me to get the doctor?"

"What for?"

"You're not in pain or anything?"

"No. Well..." he thought for a moment, his forehead creasing with the effort. "My head hurts a little. But the doc said that was to be expected."

Gillian forgot they had already talked. Cal had already been checked out.

"Whateva that means," Cal added gruffly. He looked over at her again. "You look terrible."

"Thanks a lot," Gillian mumbled displeased. This wasn't really how she thought their reunion would go.

"You been worryin' about me?" He teased.

She gave a very, very slight smile. "Of course I have."

Cal's lip curled up again in his amusement. Gillian watched him for a moment. He seemed... she couldn't find the right word to describe it. Normal. He seemed normal. There were no longer bruises on his face. The scar on his head was covered by his hair. He was in a hospital gown now. He might have just woken up from a nap. It probably felt that way to him.

"Cal," Gillian got his attention again.

He turned to her slowly. His blue eyes focussed on her.

"Why did you call me Foster?"

"That's your name isn't it? You don't like Fosta anymore?" He paused briefly. "Want me to just call you Gillian?"

'_Yes_.'

"I was just wondering."

"The doc said I was out for a while," Cal was suddenly sharp and sounding determined, instead of sleepy or hung over. "How long have I been here?"

Gillian wondered if it was ok to tell him. If she gave him too much information would it just overload his brain? "A while."

"Yeah how long is a while exactly?" His tone was surprisingly sharp.

"Over a month."

"Bloody hell," he muttered, closing his eyes and raising his hand to them. He rubbed them gently and then gave a little frown. He pulled his hand away to study his wedding ring.

"Do you know what happened?" Gillian asked him directly.

"Some sort of accident," Cal responded. "I dunno. The docta was vague on those details. Is Zoe on her way here?" He asked next and Gillian felt her stomach seize in sudden surprise.

"Zoe?" She croaked. '_No_,' she begged desperately her skin rapidly prickling from hot to cold and back again. '_No_.' She opened her mouth to explain but she was interrupted.

"Mum!" Lewis announced his arrival as he ran through the doorway. Two heads whipped around to watch him crash into her legs where she sat. '_Oh shit_,' Gillian thought, absently pulling Lewis to her lap while he said hello to her. She had forgotten all about Lewis and Emily arriving that afternoon. She looked to Cal desperately. His face registered pure shock and she couldn't even work an apology out of her mouth before Lewis cried out: "Dad!", and immediately reached out for the bed where he lay.

**PJ**

'_Are you fuckin' kiddin' me_?' Cal thought as he watched the little boy with light brown hair call out for his mother as he raced across the room. '_Fosta had a kid_?' How much had he really missed. A month? She had to be kidding. It can't have been a month. It looked more like several years. The abject terror on her face confirmed what he hadn't been able to read, she must have been lying to him about the timeline.

And then it got worse.

"Dad!" The boy cried excitedly as he turned in his mother's lap. He stood on her knees quickly and threw himself towards the bed before anyone could react. Cal felt his mouth go dry. His balls shrunk up inside him. He sucked in a shocked breath. His heart skipped a beat before it started thundering so painfully it made the side of his head throb.

"Lewis," Gillian pulled him back.

"Dad's awake!" Lewis cried.

Good lord, the kid was addressing him as 'Dad'. Cal felt the room spin suddenly like he was being sucked into a swirling vortex.

"I want a hug," the boy pouted as Gillian's arms clamped down around him to hold him tightly; he tried to fend her off. Gillian looked to Cal with what he could still only describe as fear. She started to tell the boy that he couldn't and the crushed expression on the child's face coupled with the shaky tone of voice from Gillian had Cal's compassion roaring to the forefront of everything.

"It's all right," he told them, his voice croaking horribly through the still yet to subside shock. As he opened his arms to let the boy embrace him a familiar face walked through the door.

"Sorry Gillian he ran off even though I told him to walk," Emily apologised. And then surprise on her face too. "Dad! Oh my god you're awake!" She quickly reached the other side of the bed as Gillian lifted the boy to where Cal lay. Emily took Cal's hand as the boy pressed his chest against Cal's and wrapped his arms around his torso as best he could. Cal was too stunned by both actions to say anything else and they were all silent for a moment. Then Emily started crying.

"Hey now, come on," Cal immediately tried to comfort. He absently rubbed his hand up and down the back of the kid who was calling him 'Dad'. He was going to have to deal with that later. At least Emily was a constant, although now he looked she seemed older and as she reached up a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks he caught sight of a wedding band. Her too? Bloody hell. What had he missed?

He needed someone to fill him in. Immediately. But who was he to trust? His daughter or his business partner? Who was now a mother (finally) and apparently she was leading her son to believe that Cal was his Daddy? What the hell? Where to even start? He could see that very thought in Gillian's eyes too.

"I'm sorry," Emily wiped again at her face. "It's just..." She didn't have to finish the sentence. Cal could see it all over her. She had missed him, she had worried about him, she had thought the worst. What was the worst? What had happened to him?

"Aw nice hugs," the little boy pulled back suddenly and knelt next to Cal's stomach. He wrapped his arms around himself and rubbed closed fists up and down his arms. Cal wondered what that meant. But now that he could see the little guy's face properly he was stunned to see Gillian looking back at him. So she clearly had not adopted. And there was something else. Something Cal recognised... Him. He could see himself in that little face and his stomach clenched tightly all over again. Somehow, he and Gillian had had a child together. Did other people know?

What kind of fucked up reality was this that he had woken up to?

"Lewis," Gillian spoke up into the heavy silence. She tapped his shoulder and he turned to her. "Why don't we go and get some juice?" She made a gesture by her mouth, extending her pinky finger and twisting her hand at the wrist. Cal realised she was signing and now that he looked he could see coloured hearing aids on the back of the boy's ears.

What had happened to him?

"I'll take him," Emily quickly volunteered. "So you guys can talk."

Gillian looked grateful. "Come on Lewis," Emily reached out her hand to him. Gillian put him down on the ground and he met Emily at the end of the bed, reaching out his hand to take hers. They walked from the room hand in hand. Cal stared after them amazed. They were acting like this was all completely normal. The fact that Emily wasn't finding this so weird must mean she was either in on the joke or... or Cal was the one who had somehow skipped over several years of his life.

"I'm so sorry Cal," Gillian murmured as soon as they were alone. "I didn't realise that..."

"That I don't rememba," Cal said with realisation as he turned to watch her. She looked older. So much older. There was grey in her hair and her face was lined far more heavily than he recalled. But she did inherently look the same.

Gillian opened her mouth to say something and then seemed to change her mind. "Maybe I should go and get Doctor Rockwell."

"I've already talked to him," Cal dismissed sharply. He could still feel his heart beating; it seemed determined. He raised his left hand, holding the fingers up so his wedding band was on display. "This is yours." It wasn't so much a question but an educated assumption. Gillian nodded anyway and glanced down to her fingers. Cal could see her wedding ring too. They were fucking married!? "How long have we?"

"Been married?" Gillian finished awkwardly.

Cal nodded.

"Six years."

"Bloody hell," Cal let slip as a wave of nausea washed over him. He shifted so he was sitting up a little higher. His head pounded again with the change in blood pressure. The doctor had told him to take it easy, that his body would not react the way he was used to. "And," his eyes drifted to the door.

"Lewis," Gillian supplied, inferring his meaning.

"Is ours?"

"Yes."

"I thought you couldn't have kids."

Gillian took a moment to answer. "It was difficult."

And Cal wondered what they had gone through to have Lewis. And what had made him agree to having another child in the first place. With Gillian. He was married to Gillian and they had a child. A son. This had to be a dream. It really had to.

"He's deaf?"

"No, hard of hearing."

"How come?"

"Complication from his birth."

They really _must_ have gone through something to have that kid.

"What about Alec?"

"What about him?" Gillian asked unperturbed.

Cal noted her tone of voice, the nonchalance mixed with surprise. That was a name she didn't hear often. It was a name that did not echo in her world anymore.

"We got divorced," she answered herself when Cal didn't respond.

A thought suddenly occurred to him. "We didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Gillian asked gently.

"I mean, you and I... when did we get togetha?"

And under what circumstances and who had made the first move and when?

"We've been together for nearly ten years. And Alec and I were already divorced before you and I..." she trailed off uncomfortably. "If that's what you were asking."

Cal nodded. He understood. So. Was it she who had made a move? He wanted to know. He ached to ask. But there were so many other pressing questions first like: "What happened?"

"With me and Alec?" Gillian gave a frown.

"No," Cal cut her off quickly. "The doc said I had an accident."

"Oh."

Cal could see the thoughts passing behind her eyes. She was confused and scared and something else... sad. What if it had been him in that chair and Gillian lying here essentially saying she didn't remember a single day of their relationship? He would be devastated. And have no idea what to do next.

"You fell. Off some scaffolding. It collapsed," she corrected herself.

"Gill," Cal's tone warned of a change in subject. "What year is it?"

"Twenty nineteen."

'_Good lord!_'

"What year do you think it is?" Gillian asked as though she didn't want to know the answer.

"Two thousand and nine," Cal responded softly.


	24. Chapter 24

Gillian faced the windows, her chair turned to the door, a sub-conscious, or perhaps entirely conscious, attempt at keeping the world out. She wasn't looking through the glass though, there was a particular spot on the carpet that was the focus of her mind while she rehashed the phone call he had just ended by hanging up on her. It was such a simple request, so why could he not get there, for her? For the sake of their marriage. All she wanted was for him to stop snorting drugs so they could piece their relationship back together. It was almost certainly going to fall apart. The cracks had already begun to appear.

At the sound of her office door she turned slightly to look over her shoulder, curious as to who needed her attention now. It was Cal. Of course. He always needed her attention. But there again, he was just another man she couldn't control. He moved across the room to stand opposite her desk, choosing, for whatever reason she couldn't begin to fathom, to give her some space. He raised his eyebrows in a deliberate show, a question, was now a good time for him to be there?

"What's up?" Gillian queried, her voice much softer than she intended it to be. She didn't want him to see that she was shaken. She glanced around her office while she waited for him to speak. Through the glass walls opposite her desk she could see associates tracking the halls.

"I could ask you that," Cal answered her simply.

Gillian shifted her gaze to watch him impassively. They both knew exactly what he was really talking about. Cal moved to walk around her desk, taking the long route, and perched near where she was sitting. He glanced over the items on her desk, the folders on the left, paperwork on the right, her computer screen (which was currently in screensaver mode), her cup of pens and the black framed photos of her husband Alec.

"You all right luv?" Cal asked her concerned.

This was the first time they had seen each other that day. Aside from saying good morning Gillian had kept herself in her office. She wasn't in the mood for smiling or roaming or being pleasant. "I'm fine," she responded lightly.

"Lie-a," Cal accused gently, using the same tone of voice Gillian used when she was charging him with the same crime. Gillian wondered if she had given away a tell, or if he was just making an educated allegation. She forced a smile but Cal clearly could see through that too. "Wanna talk?"

Gillian gave a slight shake of her head as she opened her mouth to respond but she found she didn't actually have anything to add and there were sudden tears in her eyes. The way he looked at her right now. So tender and he could be so sweet when he wanted to be. She missed seeing that expression. Especially from someone who cared about her. Especially from her husband. She felt worse, thinking about Alec again. She looked up and to the side, silently trying to dissuade the tears from overflowing from their damns.

"Hey, hey, hey," Cal spoke gently but urgently as he got to his feet to step closer. He placed a hand on her bare shoulder; his hand was warm against her skin. She got to her feet slowly, giving him every warning of her movements so he could object or try to duck away from her before she put her arms around his shoulders. She needed a hug; she needed to be held. He placed his arms around her back and held her closely. He rubbed her back in small soothing motions and made little noises to accompany them. "Is there anythin' I can do for you?" He asked softly when they simultaneously pulled away again from the lengthy embrace.

"No," Gillian wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands. She sniffed lightly, hoping she didn't look too much of a mess. She reached around him for a tissue from the box on her desk, the one right next to the photo of Alec.

"You need somewhere to stay?"

"You don't have a spare room," Gillian pointed out, wiping at her nose delicately so it wouldn't turn redder than it probably already was.

"Nah but I have a couch," Cal offered.

Gillian gave him a slight frown. He was inviting her over to sleep on his couch?

"That I can sleep on," Cal finished. "You're welcome to my room."

"I'm not going to kick you out of your room."

She would have taken the couch.

"Nah I'm volunteerin'," Cal flickered a ghost of his charm smile. "You'd be quite welcome. Emily's gone away on camp so I'm by myself for a bit."

Gillian gave him another attempt at a smile. It sounded far too inviting. "Thanks, but I really think I should be on my own for a while." And she should certainly not start running away from her problems.

"Course," Cal quickly conceded even though it was clear he didn't agree with her. For a moment it looked as though he might object or insist some more as he hesitated slightly. Gillian hoped he would drop it. She didn't want to tell him 'no' any more firmly than she had. She didn't want to hurt his feelings and yet she knew she couldn't accept. He studied her carefully again, checking to see if she was leaking any other signs of emotion; bad emotions. When he looked at her like that it almost felt as though he could read her thoughts. "Is there anythin' else I can do? Besides the hug?" And he looked slightly pleased with himself.

Gillian gave a short laugh. For a second, she also looked pleased. "No, just the hug at this point. Thank you," she said it genuinely. A hug was definitely what she needed. Cal gave great hugs too.

"You sure? Cos I'm a hell of a listena," Cal started to back up slowly towards the door. "I have a qualification and all."

"I'll keep that in mind," Gillian responded and wondered why he had come in to see her. Did he have a question or was it merely to check up on her? Was it simply a late afternoon 'hello' or a 'I noticed your chair avoiding the office so tell me what's wrong'? snoop.

"All right," Cal reached the door, turned and pulled it open. He walked through it quickly and out of sight with his usual over confident stride. But he still looked back over his shoulder as he headed down the corridor and away from Gillian's office. She watched him go, waited for him to turn out of sight. What if he had insisted a little harder?

**PJ**

Cal's awake.

It was like a whisper in the wind. Gillian heard it around her for days after she had told key people: Ria, Eli, Paul, Kate and Matthew, Mom and Dad. It rippled out from there. More flowers arrived in his room and messages of support came through. When Cal had first been injured people had come to see him. When it became clear he was not going to wake up any time soon, they started to wane. And now that he was conscious and lucid and at least talkative, the same people were back. They wanted to see him. Gillian fended them off. He was only barely conscious. He lasted no more than ten minutes at a time. Doctor Rockwell thought it would be best if he had some privacy as he came to grips with what had happened. Gillian needed some privacy to come to grips with what had happened.

From what they could gather, he was missing ten years. The last ten years. Certainly the ten years they had been together as a couple. Gillian wondered if that was significant in some way or if she should be offended by that particular block of time being erased, but a part of her was so thrilled he was back she could over look it. At least, that worked the first day, and the second day, but by the third day, when he still looked at her like he had seen a ghost, it started to unnerve her. He looked at Lewis like he was the plague. The only person he seemed fully relaxed around was Emily. And now it was the younger woman who was keeping Gillian appraised of how Cal was feeling or what he had been talking about when she went to visit.

Gillian was afraid but she could also see the fear in Cal's eyes. He was confused and conflicted but mostly, just scared. He had woken up to a whole other world and Gillian could at least sympathise with that. The last thing she wanted to do was overwhelm him anymore than he already was. Which was why she was trying to keep a lid on visitors; particularly new faces, or those who tended to gossip.

"He doesn't remember anything," Gillian tried again.  
>Aiden fixed her with a steady gaze. "And I need to hear that from his mouth."<p>

"I don't see why you need to talk to him, wasn't Malrose already arrested and charged?"

"Yes he was but I still need to take a victim statement, particularly if the victim is able to make one. Cal didn't die."

"I know that," Gillian retorted in a low voice. "But like I said, he doesn't remember the incident. He won't even remember who you are."

Aiden's eyes softened so very slightly Gillian almost missed it but he was a police officer after all and he knew how to 'handle' people. "Look I know you're trying to protect him but I really need to speak to him myself." It was procedure, he didn't verbally add, but Gillian heard anyway.

Gillian sighed. She felt tense. So freaking tense these days. She waved her hand in dismissal, as if to say, no matter what I say you're not going to change your mind so you may as well go ahead.

Aiden placed a hand on her elbow, where it was bent so she could fold her arms across her chest. "I won't be long and I won't distress him further."

Gillian nodded she understood. Or was it that she was agreeing? Did she really even have a choice in the matter? The police detective was going to talk to Cal whether she liked it or not. Doctor Rockwell hadn't exactly helped her out with objections. Was it really that she didn't want Cal to get distressed any further? Or was it just that she wanted to keep him to herself...

Gillian turned and followed the much taller man into Cal's hospital room. She hovered by the doorway, listening in on their conversation but trying not to intrude too much. Cal looked over the detective as he approached and immediately drew a blank. Gillian could see it in his eyes. He looked over at her, double checking that it was ok for the man to be in there and that Cal shouldn't be alarmed or careful in anyway. She gave him quick smile and he relaxed a little. He seemed so vulnerable lying there like that and it made grief squeeze Gillian's heart. It wasn't right to see Cal so unsure.

"Doctor Lightman," Aiden started politely as he reached the bed, extending his hand for Cal to shake in greeting. "I'm Aiden Fox-Boycott. I'm a police detective with..."

Cal gave a kind of wince and shake of his head. He didn't care what precinct the cop was with. "Boycott," he said instead. "I went to school with a Boycott."

"I'm assuming it was a different family," Aiden responded gently.

"Maybe not. Could be cousins."

"Could be," Aiden agreed. "I need to ask you a few questions regarding your accident."

"You should talk to Gillian. Or Loke-a," Cal settled on a name he recognised. He had been told something about new employees but he didn't remember their names. Names, days, dates, everything was starting to blur.

"Has Gillian told you what happened?"

"She said I fell off somethin'."

"Do you remember anything from that day?"

"I don't rememba yestaday," Cal looked up at the tall detective. "So, no, I don't rememba somethin' that happened last week."

"It was last month," Aiden corrected.

"Whateva."

"Nothing at all?" Aiden tried again.

"I can't remamba my son's birth or marryin' Gill, even though I've been assured both happened. So no. Sorry. But I've got nothin'," he sounded completely unapologetic.

"Well if you do recall anything Gillian knows how to get in touch with me."

"Sure," Cal agreed suddenly amicable. "You work closely with the Lightman Group?"

Aiden gave a slow nod. "On occasion."

Cal studied him for a moment. "I'll make sure to let you know then." It was a dismissal.

Aiden turned to face Gillian and gave her a tight lipped smile. It was a concession. She was right. She gave his arm a squeeze as he walked by her. She would call him later. And then her gaze was back on Cal and his face was unreadable. "You two close then?" It sounded like an accusation.

"Not particularly," Gillian responded, moving to stand in the space the detective had just vacated.

"But he helps you?"

"Yes," Gillian agreed. "He does help when he can."

"And we help him?"

"Yes."

"How did we fall into bed with a police detective?"

Gillian thought the question strange in light of the year long working relationship Cal had had with Ben Reynolds and the FBI but then, when she took that extra second to process, it wasn't so bizarre after all. Cal would not remember signing that contract.

"He was the lead on a serial he was working. One of the suspects landed on your desk and during the process of investigation you two met and solved the case and... I don't know the details exactly but you mutually agreed that you needed each other or that you could benefit from..."

Cal gave a wince. "Sounds like a borin' story."

Gillian fidgeted with the sheet on the bed uncomfortably and shifted her weight to her other foot. She didn't know what to say to that. She didn't really know what to say much at all these days.

"Tell me a good story."

"Like what?"

"Like," Cal thought for a moment. "When did we get married?"

"May."

"Spring?"

"Yes."

Cal gave a slight smile. "That makes sense." Gillian gave a slight smile in return. "But why not summa?"

"I didn't want to wait."

Cal's smile turned to a smirk. "Oh yeah?"

"And neither did you."

Cal watched her for a moment, amusement on his face and Gillian shifted again. "What about Lewis? When's his birthday?"

"June."

Cal's face suddenly morphed into shock. "It wasn't a shot gun weddin' was it?"

"No," Gillian almost laughed. The timing was all wrong! "Definitely not."

"How did we have Lewis? I mean, he is _ours_ right?"

"Yes of course."

"I mean cos he looks like you but I know havin' kids was difficult. Unless..."

"IVF," Gillian clarified before she could think too hard about what 'unless' meant.

"Oh right," Cal gave a nod. "That makes sense."

Gillian knew she was showing a clear 'sad' expression and forced her face back to neutral before Cal could grill her on it. She didn't want to get into the grittiness of their lives just yet. He had only been back with her for a few days. Except Cal didn't question her on the expression, he asked her something else that completely sucker punched her. "Why just one? You didn't want more kids?"

"Uh," Gillian hesitated.

"I didn't want more kids?" Cal guessed.

"No, we both wanted more but we decided against it. The IVF was difficult." And so was the birth and then there was Lily.

Cal nodded again, slowly, to show he understood. "Sounds like we've been through a lot. Togetha."

"We have," Gillian agreed softly.

Cal looked up at her from where he was propped up on the bed. There was a mix of wonderment and curiosity in his eyes and just a slight hint of suspicion. Part of what made them work so well together was that they had been there for each other. They understood each other and exactly what had transgressed. There was no confusion over feelings and events. They had each other's backs. They had learnt to be there through thick and thin, through sickness and health. They had learnt to be infallible together. And now that Cal didn't remember any of that, did that mean they were doomed? Did it mean it was all over? Or could they start again? If they had to do it all over again, would the outcome be the same?


	25. Chapter 25

"If you're going to act like a complete douche I will put an end to these visits."

"Ooooh look who grew up and think they can speak to their old man that way."

Emily narrowed her eyes at her father. "What are you going to do about it? Leap out of bed to bend me over your knee again? That hasn't worked since I was three."

"To be fair," Cal waved a hand. "I only did it that once."

"Yes but there was always that threat of violence to keep me in line."

Cal gave a slight frown. "What did you study at university?"

"I'm doing law," Emily reminded him again. She had told him three days ago. Clearly even new snippets of information were not staying put in his mind.  
>"But you did psyche one-oh-one right?"<p>

Emily nodded.

"Knew it. You sound like Gillian."

Emily smiled despite herself and Cal watched her face light up with fascination. "You and Gillian are close?" He queried.

"We've always been close in one way or the other," Emily answered.

"Now you really do sound like Gillian. Please don't talk around the subject, give me a direct answa." Emily picked at a fingernail. "Unless you're unda instruction not to tell me stuff," Cal half-guessed, half-accused.

"What makes you think that?"

"Cos every time I ask someone about what's been goin' on in the last few years I get awkward expressions and subject changes. Is Gillian tellin' people to not talk to me?"

"I don't think it's that. I mean, she hasn't told me not to tell you anything specifically. She just asked me to be careful about what we talked about."

Cal gave a frown so severe it made his head throb. "What the hell does that mean?" He asked loudly.

"Dad," Emily warned again.

"Sorry," Cal grumped. "I'm frustrated as all hell. You have any idea how annoyin' it is havin' someone dictate what you are and are not allowed to know about your own life?"

"She's not dictating," Emily quickly retorted defensively. "She's trying to protect you!"

"I don't need protectin'! I need bloody ansa's! How else am I gonna know anythin'?"

Unless they were waiting for his memory to miraculously come back to him. Maybe he should ask his doctor about that. Was it going to miraculously come back? That would be great, really. Bloody perfect. But if the memories returned, would he still recall this weird sensation of being in the dark?

Emily sat passively and waited for Cal to calm down. "There are some things that Gillian should really tell you about herself."

Cal almost rolled his eyes but stopped himself with just the sigh. He was learning quickly that antagonising his daughter and throwing his weight around was not going to work anymore. She was grown up. She was married for god's sake! Gone were the days when he could control her by playing the 'I'm your father' card. He had to learn now how to be around her as an almost equal (she would always be his daughter after all). "I will talk to Gill about the me and her stuff. But surely you can talk to me about otha stuff?"

"Sure," Emily agreed easily but Cal could tell she was still wary.

"Please Em. I'm in the dark ova here. I thought we were a team?"

Emily looked down slightly and Cal figured she was a little ashamed. He should play their bond, most definitely, but he still had to be careful. "We are a team Dad but Gillian is family too. You know she's been like a mother to me. Since I was thirteen."

Cal nodded. He remembered that. They had grown close over the years. Perhaps they had just gotten even closer as the years had gone by. And where was Zoe? She hadn't been by to see him yet. He wondered what he would even say to her. The last he remembered they were arguing a lot. He needed someone to give him a rundown of the history he now had with the various people in his life. Like the cop. Did they really get along? Had the detective done something once to piss Cal off that he should keep in mind? Were there scores to settle, debts to be owed...

"What do you want to know?" Emily asked him.

"All of it," Cal responded.

"That could take some time."

"I have time," and his tone was hard again as the surge of feeling trapped washed over him. He was physically weak. He had a fractured hip he was going to have to learn to walk on properly. It was a simple break but because he had been unconscious while it healed, it was going to be frailer than normal.

Emily had already told Cal a basic outline of her life in the last ten years. She had graduated high school, gone off to college in Boston. She had met a boy, finished her degree, worked for a while. They had gotten engaged and worked some more. Travelled a little. Come home and gotten married. Emily had gone back to school. What Cal missed were the nuances. Sure, Emily had told him he had been indifferent to Ajay in the beginning, that he had taken time to get used to the young man and eventually come to approve of him highly. But that didn't tell Cal what he had said to his daughter's husband. What was the wedding like? Did Cal give a speech at the reception?

What he wanted to know about the most, what really burned through his soul, was his relationship with Gillian. What had he done to win her over? And how had they stayed married this long? And then there was Lewis and the complete impossibility of Gillian having children and Cal allegedly wanting them. There were new tattoos on his arm. What were they about? And the pale little scars around his wrists. The ones he had only noticed when the nurse came to give him a sponge bath and he had watched her hands as they traced over every inch of his body. So many new scars. Where had he picked them up? And were they on this imaginary list of things Emily decided Gillian should talk to him about?

Would she? They didn't seem to be particularly close right now. They weren't exactly connecting. She seemed wary or just tired... beaten down. Cal figured she had a lot to worry about. A four year old for starters, their business, him. So when were they going to talk? When were his damn memories going to come back? And when were his questions going to get answered? He had so many.

"Em," Cal started gently. "I can gatha that there were some events that are clearly..." he searched for the right word. "Gillian doesn't want me to know about them cos she thinks I'm gonna get distressed or whateva. But can you just... give me a hint? I mean, not details, but... I need to know. Did I hurt Gillian?"

"Dad," Emily started. "I don't know the inner-working's of your marriage. I'd like to know but I don't."

"Why do you want to know?" Cal pounced.

"You guys are solid. After everything you've been through, you made it."

Cal watched her for a moment. "Afta everythin'? What does that mean?"

"You've been through a lot."

"Yes," Cal ground out, frustration causing his hands to bunch the sheet into his fist. "What though? Did I cheat on her? Hit her? Did I leave her? Did I..."

Emily looked aghast. "No nothing like that."

Cal felt worse. Did that make him a complete shit for those being the first things that came to mind? What else could there be?

"I mean, not to say you haven't had your problems. But I mean, it's more like 'events' that have challenged you guys as a couple. Stuff like this," she gestured towards him in the hospital bed.

"Do I hit my head often?"

"You get beat up often."

"That's not new."

Emily gave a wry smile. "No it's not. But Dad. I don't know everything about it. You have to talk to Gillian. She knows everything."

"I just don't want to put my foot in it. She seems so..." Different. Worn. Sad.

Emily gave him an expectant expression. She was waiting for him to finish the sentence.

"She's..." Cal tried again. How did he put it? It wasn't that she was delicate or fragile or broken. "She just seems like she needs someone to protect her a little." Someone to look after her for once. It seemed like she was doing this alone.

Emily considered him for a moment. She gave a slight smile suddenly and twisted her wedding ring on her finger. Cal watched the gesture and wondered at its significance. "Can I give you some advice Dad?"

"Depends if I'm gonna like it or not."

"Well you won't know until you hear it will you?"  
>Cal sighed. "You turned in to a right smart ass you know that?"<p>

"Yes, you tell me frequently."

Cal rolled his eyes. That also made his head hurt. He was still a little light sensitive. Or maybe he was just tired. His eyes hurt and he noticed, much to his horror, that his eyesight had gotten worse all of a sudden. He should ask Gillian for his glasses because there were pictures on the wall, that he assumed Lewis had drawn for him, that were mostly fuzzy. "Let's hear it then."

"Talk to Gillian."

Cal opened his mouth to interject. Emily held up a hand to forestall him. "I'm not finished!" She exclaimed. "You don't have to talk to her about the missing ten years. Just talk to her. You guys are best friends. Do you remember how you got that way?"

Of course he did! He trusted her and he let her in. He talked to her about things (and maybe still to this day) that he had never told anyone else. Cal considered what his daughter was saying. "I don't know what to talk to her about," he muttered. Because every time he saw her he was struck with the knowledge that she was his wife and he wanted to know how it got that way. It burned inside him. Burned. He needed to know. Any attempt at normalcy after that seemed bizarre.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Emily responded lightly.

"Hm," Cal grunted in response.

**PJ**

Cal's door was open and Gillian stepped over the threshold quietly, hesitantly. Cal was sitting up on the bed, fully dressed in clothes Gillian had brought him the day before, facing the window, thinking or daydreaming. She stopped for a moment to observe him. She should be enthused to be there right now but the last week had been difficult. Really difficult. He was frustrated and angry and he was taking it out on whoever was closest. When he wasn't yelling or making threats he was asleep. And when he wasn't asleep there were brief moments where he seemed like the old Cal. But they were brief and Gillian had started to dread coming to see him. On his bad days she made sure to keep Lewis away (and yes she checked in advance to see what kind of mood Cal was in). The boy didn't need to see his father like that.

Doctor Rockwell had explained to her about the commonality of memory loss in patients with head traumas. The statistics were high. That didn't make her feel better. She knew it was a probability and a part of her had been expecting it, but that didn't mean she wasn't devastated by the extent of what he didn't remember. It wasn't his name, address, the 'event' or a few birthdays. It was ten years of his life. It was their entire relationship. Gone. All of it. Gone.

Cal raised a hand to the side of his head and his fingers obviously felt along where the scar was embedded in his scalp. He turned slightly and she was in the edge of his field of vision. "Hi," he greeted, turning his head fully towards her, looking concerned but also a little relieved.

"Hi," she forced a smile for him and started to approach again. Should she ask him if it was ok to come in? He had just moved from the main hospital building yesterday to a rehab facility on the same site. This was the first morning he had woken up here and she wondered how his mood was. They were in a terrible state of their relationship if she was wary of his moods. Terrible. But what else was she meant to do? He couldn't help it. Irritability and anger were side effects of the trauma. So were apathy and impulsiveness and mania and anxiety and worst of all: depression. He was already susceptible (and she was on the lookout). But he had acknowledged that in an alternate reality and it had been a major stepping stone of their relationship at the time. Change in personality was a possibility, but what did that mean when Cal had changed so much as a person over the years? What was she meant to measure a change in personality against? The old Cal? Or the new Cal she knew.

Cal watched her as she approached the bed. His hand absently lowered back to his lap where he immediately started fidgeting with his wedding band. At least he was still wearing it, Gillian conceded.

"How are you feeling today?" She started lamely.

"Oh you know," Cal responded. "No Lewis?"

"He's at day care."

"Right," Cal gave a slight nod. He looked behind her to the visitor's chair, checking to see it was still there and gestured to it. "Take a seat."

Gillian obliged. She set her purse on the floor. Then she looked around the small room. Cal was still in a hospital bed but gone were the IV lines, heart monitors and most other medical equipment. There was a window opposite the door. A TV opposite the bed. In the corner was a comfy reclining arm chair. In the opposite corner was a private bathroom. "It's nice to see you dressed," Gillian noted, her gaze coming back to rest on him. He hadn't shaved though. The nursing staff had regularly trimmed his facial hair for him while he had been unconscious but now that he could make those decisions for himself, he had let the practice slip. For Gillian, it was a sign that not all was well in his world.

"They even let me get out of bed to go to the toilet this mornin'," he responded with a slight smile.

"That's good," Gillian made sure she sounded optimistic and encouraging at the progress he was making. Sure, going to the toilet seemed like small potatoes, but considering he had been completely comatose just a week ago, it was a huge step forward.

"I had a minda wheel me right up to the look and stand outside the door, but still..."

Gillian nodded. He was unsteady on his feet. But rehab was going to help him with that. It was going to strengthen his muscles again, get him walking around and used to being upright on his own two feet. Lucky for Cal, his speech was unaffected; otherwise he'd be having therapy for that too. Later, someone would come by to help with his hand to eye coordination and this thought processes and all kinds of other things; like, sadly, making sure he could still tie his shoes.

"I was wonderin' if you could help me with somethin'," Cal went on.

"Sure."

"Who was responsible for sponge baths ova there? I would've asked before but I didn't wanna be unable to look anyone in the eye."

There was a knock on the door and a young man entered pushing a wheelchair in front of him. "Hi I'm Adam."

Gillian turned to him with a smile. People came in all the time. She figured he was an orderly or a nurse. "I'm here to take Cal to physical therapy," he explained, parking the wheelchair next to the bed.

"Don't I get a moment to settle in?" Cal asked him.

"Nope," Adam approached and took Cal by the upper arm. He manhandled Cal into the chair, pulling, helping, but refusing to let Cal resist, which he tried to do in a subtle way.

"Gillian," she introduced herself. Once Cal was settled Adam leaned over the bed to shake her hand.

"Don't get too friendly," Cal growled. "That's my wife."

"Oh well it's nice to meet you," Adam gave her a smile, ignoring Cal's tone. His eyes were hazel and Gillian could see through his shirt that his muscles were toned. He held his body with confidence. "Do you want to hang around? We're going to be at least a couple of hours."

"A couple of hours?" Cal exclaimed annoyed.

"I have to get to work," Gillian saw her chance to escape. "Maybe tomorrow. I'll make the time."

"Tomorrow?" Cal grumbled again.

"Every day," Adam told him giving his shoulder a pat as he walked behind Cal to take a grip of the handles of the chair. "So you may as well get used to me."

"Great," Cal shot back.

"I'll come by and see you this afternoon," Gillian told him as Adam pushed him around the edge of the bed.

"Whateva," Cal retorted.

"Ok," Gillian sighed. She could feel Adam looking over at her as he continued to wheel Cal from the room. She turned to reach for her purse so he wouldn't see her hurt completely. Once she was alone she took a moment to compose herself. She had made it this far she could see it through until the end. When was the end? Was it when Cal came home, or was it when he miraculously got all of his memories back and everything went back to normal, or was it when she woke up from this nightmare? If she was looking out for Cal's well being then who was looking out for hers?


	26. Chapter 26

"Ok so what I want you to do is just take your time and walk along the length of the bars," Adam instructed.

"This is idiotic," Cal told him as his hands held on to the bars for dear life. His legs were shaking and Adam, his physiotherapist, had taken the wheelchair away again now that Cal was standing. "I know how to walk."

"Then it should be nice and easy," Adam replied lightly. He stood off to the side neutrally watching.

Cal took a step forward. Despite his bitching, he knew he wasn't going to be able to let go of the supports. The trip to the toilet that morning had already attested to his complete lack of muscle strength and ability. He felt like he had woken up out of the matrix and was learning to walk for the first time despite being in an adult body. That was quite a good analogy actually because he felt like had woken up out of a dream only to find things weren't as they seemed. He could feel his wedding band dig into his finger. He had taken it off to see what that felt like and there had been a typical white mark underneath where it rested. He had clearly been wearing it for a while. It wasn't that he thought Gillian was lying to him; it was more that he felt the need to verify for himself. That was what he was used to doing. He was a scientist after all.

Cal felt his arms start to shake as they held his meagre weight. He took another step forward, amazed at how exhausted he was already but still refusing to let Adam know that he was struggling, or needed help. He didn't want anyone to see. He was glad Gillian kept their son away. He didn't want to have to deal with that. Gillian still came every day though. Twice a day. Sometimes three. Cal loved that she came. It was lonely sitting or lying in bed all day. He looked forward to her visits but then as soon as he saw her he remembered this whole other life existed and he didn't know how to be around her. It was bloody awkward! Emily had suggested talking to Gillian but where the hell was Cal even meant to start?

"So Gillian's your wife," Adam started to make casual conversation.

"My business partna," Cal put him right absently. He took another slow step. Wholly crap his legs were so heavy. How could that be when it looked like he had halved his body weight?

"Oh right," Adam responded lightly. He shifted his stance to even out his weight as he waited.

"My wife," Cal corrected himself. "She's my wife," he repeated through gritted teeth. Ok so this was really hard. He wasn't even half way. And he was completely fucked! He shouldn't have run his mouth off on the way down here. He knew he was being taught a lesson right now and it tasted just as bitter as he remembered. Nice to know some things hadn't changed completely.

"She seems nice."

"Yeah well," Cal started to bite and then retracted his teeth. "She is," he agreed. Because she was.

"How long have you two been together?"

"Can we just focus on this?" Cal sniped and that was mostly because he didn't know. It was several years but he had forgotten. Most of the things they had talked about since he woke up had already slipped his mind and he was frustrated as hell. The only reason he remembered his son's name was because she had told him the boy was named after Cal's mother.

"Sure," Adam gave a slight gesture. "Focus away. I've got all day."

'_Bloody hell_,' Cal grumped to himself.

**PJ**

"I need help."

"Ok," the answer came slowly. Fair enough. The phone call was out of the blue. "What kind of help?"

"Help help, the kind of help only you can give me."

"Ok," the answer was a little more sure this time. "You're going to have to give me a lot more than that. You've kept me in the dark so I don't actually know what's going on."

Gillian sighed. She had done that on purpose.

"What happened today that has made you want to call me up?" Casey tried. Because Casey always called Gillian and Gillian acted like she couldn't wait to get off the phone again.

"Cal," Gillian answered. It was always Cal.

"What happened with Cal?"

"He was..." How he usually was. Abrupt. Gruff. Cold. Distant. But that was normally with other people. Gillian had gotten used to not being on the receiving end of that side of him and after an entire week of it... when she had enjoyed over six blissful years of...

"It's getting to you," Casey noted. "That he doesn't remember you two being together."

"Yes," Gillian admitted. And the little white pills sitting in her bathroom cupboard seemed more and more appealing as the days dragged by. She had filled the prescription but she was yet to swallow any of them down.

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"If I knew that I wouldn't have called you."

"Come on," Casey coaxed, ignoring her self-pity. "You know how to fix this."

"Do I?"

"Yes. You've done it before."

"Fixed this?"

"Yes that too, but that wasn't what I meant."

Gillian thought for a moment. She had fixed her marriage just once and how had she done that again? By being grateful for what she had. For appreciating Cal as he was. For accepting that she had Cal and Lewis in her life and they were by far the best things that had ever happened to her. By taking a step back, a deep breath, by trying to let the things that bothered her go so she could focus on the bigger picture instead of bitching about the little insignificant things. But what else was Casey talking about? She had done this before. Did Casey mean with Mitchell? Because that wasn't nearly the same. Not even close.

"What do you mean?" Gillian asked when it was clear Casey was not going to elaborate despite the silence.

"I mean, you two found a way to get together in the first place right?"

"Oh _that_," Gillian was surprised. She hadn't thought that far back. But then, that was exactly where Cal was right now wasn't he?

"Yes _that_," Casey repeated.

Not many people knew that story. Gillian hadn't told it to anyone except maybe Lewis when he had been in her womb and after he had been born and she had sat up with him, cuddling him and murmuring anything that came to mind to get him to go to sleep. She wondered if Cal had ever told Emily. She knew he had been asking his daughter for details about his life. Emily had told her. They had the same concern; that he would overload with information and not be able to cope. It wasn't that Gillian had demanded a blanket ban on telling him anything, she had just requested that anyone who went to see him was careful with what they let slip and what they answered when he asked. If he heard the stories about Mitchell, Lewis's birth and Lily's death all in one go he very well may implode. It was a lot to handle. Especially when put like that.

"I know he made the first move but you must have reciprocated right? I mean, you let him know in some way, conscious or not, obvious or not, that you were interested and willing... Am I right?"

"Yes of course I did that," Gillian responded amazed with remembering something so simple (something that had entirely slipped her mind) and yet completely significant (and how fitting was it that she should go back to the beginning when Cal had suddenly found himself there too?). She had reciprocated. She must have in the beginning, that first kiss, that very first moment Cal had leaned forward to press his lips against hers. She must have right? And then after that, the very not-so-subtle ways she had pursued him. She had made it clear. She was attracted to him. She wanted a relationship with him. And it had worked in the end, even if initially that had scared him and he had backed off. So perhaps Casey's plan was just a little flawed... would history repeat?

"So. Like any relationship, you have to let the other party know you're interested."

God Casey was so right! She probably didn't even know how right she really was. Gillian had been distant to Cal since he had woken up. Because it hurt her to know he didn't remember their relationship, their son, their lives together. She was wary of him now and afraid that he would reject her. But what she was doing, without realising, was making sure he didn't remember and that he didn't have the opportunity to tell her he didn't want her. She didn't talk to him about the last ten years. She didn't talk to him about their son. In fact, she had taken to keeping Lewis away from Cal, which she thought was to protect the both of them, but in fact, was creating a barrier.

"Thank you," Gillian responded simply after what must have been a very lengthy silence in which Casey waited patiently.

"So you're ok now?"

"Yes."

"Back on track?"

"Yes."

"Let me know how it works out."

"I will."

"Call anytime."

"Thank you," Gillian repeated.

**PJ**

"Are you gonna work me like a slave every day we do this?" Cal asked gruffly. His body was under strain and he ached all over. Some of the pain was astute, some of it subtle. But it was there, in every pull and retraction of his muscles. And worse, his head throbbed. It didn't like him being upright. It didn't like him strengthening his body. His blood pressure was rising, his blood volume was increasing, the demand his muscles put on his lungs and his heart was going back to normal.

"Yes," Adam responded easily as he stood by and watched Cal walk down the length of the bars again. "You know, you're welcome to have people here in support if you need it."

"What I need is a day off."

"You only started two days ago."

"Yeah well," Cal couldn't think of a comeback fast enough. He felt a surge of frustration, at his inability to process thoughts fast enough and his apparent inability to walk a few meters unassisted. "When do I get a day off?"

"I'll think about it."

"Good lord," Cal complained.

"I'll trade you a day off if you do something for me."

Cal looked up at the younger man. He was in his early thirties and had been at the rehabilitation facility as a physical therapist for the last six years. That was as long as Cal and Gillian had been married. Apparently. "What is it?" Cal asked warily.

"Invite your wife to come to a session."

"Neva mind then," Cal responded lightly. "Eight days a week is fine by me."

"Or your daughter," Adam suggested dipping his head slightly to watch Cal take another step.

"Forget it," Cal growled. Like he wanted his daughter to see him here in his worst state of weakness. Then what would she think of him? He was supposed to be infallible. He was supposed to be someone she looked up to, a role model.

'_Can you hear yourself_?'

He was supposed to be a role model. So if Emily were walking in his socks right now would Cal want her to be defiant and reclusive and feeling sorry for herself? No, he would want her to feel that she could lean on other people for help and support. He would want her to let people in to help aide her recovery. It would be important for her mental come back too. So why wasn't he taking his own advice? Cos he could be a stubborn bastard. And pig-headed... and what were the other things Gillian called him? Arrogant and...

Gillian.

Gillian had married him! It was unbelievable to think about. He must have got something right then for her to want to spend her life with him. She was lovely and sweet and kind and so many things that he wasn't. But she was also strong and independent and fierce and she didn't settle. So something must have changed for her or for him that had finally brought them together. Wasn't that what he had wanted for a long time? To be with her. And now he was. Legally bound by a ring, emotionally tied by a child. So what was he doing pushing her away? She had limits. She would leave. She had divorced Alec had she not? And why was that again? Cal thought hard. It made his head hurt but whatever... She had left Alec because he had started snorting crack again. So that meant her limit was... drugs? _No, come on Cal, think_... Her limit was people who were not willing to help themselves. Her limit was people who were not willing to change. So Cal must have changed because she wouldn't have settled. Not in the least. Not when it came to him. She never had. He knew her.

Wait.

He _knew_ her. Sure ten years were gone but they had had ten years before that. They had had ten years of working side by side every day. They knew each other like no one else did. She was the reason Cal's marriage had inadvertently fallen apart. He had connected with Gillian far more than he had ever connected with Zoe. It had been a tragedy to realise and a colossal mistake to allow to happen, but it had, and there had been no denying it once he had come to the conclusion. In fact, it had given him some sort of comfort on some level. He might have lost his wife. And she might have taken his daughter away. But he still had Gillian. For whatever reason she could stand being around him. However it had happened they had gotten close. Now why would Cal want to destroy that?

"Cal?"

"Huh?" He looked up. He had reached the end. His arms were quivering from holding himself up and he could feel his thighs tremoring with the effort he had just exerted.

"Are you all right?" Adam was close to him, ready to catch him should he fall. He looked concerned.

"Fine," Cal gave a nod to confirm. "I'll ask Gillian," he straightened up again, shifting his weight to his other leg as he felt his fractured hip tighten and protest. "So when do I get my day off?"


	27. Chapter 27

Gillian walked through Cal's door to find him lying in bed on his side. He was facing the windows and she hesitated on the premise that he could be asleep. She crept around the bed, her gaze intent on his face, her demeanour suggesting she would back off if he was. His eyes glanced over at her and he smiled. "Hi," he greeted.

"Hi," Gillian repeated and the look in his eye made her get closer, suddenly confident. She leaned down and planted a kiss on his forehead; the first time she had kissed him since he had woken up. It was the first affection she had shown him in several weeks. She could see Cal was surprised but pleased and it struck her that maybe he had been looking for some reassurance that what she told him was in fact the truth: they were married and she loved him. "How was your day?" She gave his cheek a stroke before pulling the chair so she could sit close to him.

"I had physical therapy," Cal started. Gillian nodded, she remembered Adam coming to get him that morning. "So I'm completely fucked." Gillian smiled suddenly and Cal grinned. "I have pain in muscles I didn't even know I had."

"Well you've neglected them all recently. I'm not surprised they're getting back at you."

Cal's grin became uncontrollable. He shifted slightly so his face wasn't pressed tightly into the pillow and she could see all of him. It also meant she could see him better. He looked tired but there was a little sparkle in his eye that had been missing for far too long.

"When do you go back?" Gillian kept conversation moving.

"Tomorrow," Cal answered easily and then he seemed to hesitate. "Actually. I was wonderin' if you'd do me a fave-a."

"Depends what it is."

Cal smiled at that too and then he got nervous. It was so unlike him. Confident and cocky were words to describe Cal. Not careful and conscious. "Adam seems to think it's a good idea for you to come too."

"To physical therapy?"

"Yeah, you know, support or somethin'," Cal mumbled, checking out a piece of fluff on his bed sheet.

"Of course," Gillian responded firmly. "If you want me there I'll be there."

Cal looked up. "You don't have to."

"I want to support you Cal," Gillian told him as if he were an idiot and the answer obvious.

"When?"

"Tomorrow?"

"Sure," she agreed easily.

"Mornin'."

"Yep," she nodded thinking she was going to have to reschedule a meeting but that it didn't matter when it came to Cal.

"All right," Cal finished as if it was far easier than he thought it was going to be.

"Whatever you need Cal," Gillian leaned in to where he lay. "You know that right?"

"Sure," he nodded casually. Why did his heart suddenly thunder? He studied her eyes. They were the same colour. And sure there were more lines around them than before. And her eyebrows were much lighter but there was something else he was missing... Something he couldn't read on her. He couldn't read her no matter how hard he tried. Doctor Rockwell was so very open it was easy. Emily had always been an easy read for Cal. But other people were harder. Gillian was the worst and Cal feared, on top of everything else, that he had also forgotten how to spot facial twitches. "You've changed," Cal suddenly blurted into the silence.

Gillian raised her eyebrows slightly in controlled surprise.

"You're harda than you used to be."

Gillian watched him impassively for a moment. "People change."

"Have I changed?"

"Yes," Gillian admitted.

"In a good way?"

"Yes."

"That's why you married me?"

"Yes," Gillian agreed again.

Cal was thoughtful for a moment. "You could tell me anythin' right now and I'd have to take your word for it."

Gillian gave a slight nod. "That's true I guess."

"You could sugacoat."

"I could."

Cal was silent for a moment as he watched her. "So why don't you?" He guessed.

"I don't lie to you," Gillian answered. "We don't lie to each other."

Cal considered that. "What happened to make you change?"

"That's a leading question," Gillian responded.

"Do you want me to guess at somethin' specific?"

"I just mean, a lot has happened."

"Did I hurt you?" The question came out weakly; Cal was unsure and Gillian could read a flash of fear.

"What makes you think it was you?"

"That's my usual trick."

"You changed remember?"

"So..." Cal thought again. "Was it somethin' else?" And his mind flew over the possibilities. If it wasn't him, than who? And under what circumstances. There could be so many different explanations he had no idea where to even start.

"Maybe it was me that hurt you."

Worse. So much worse. What did she do to him? Cheat? Leave him? Were they even still together in this reality? Was she just at his side because he was in a time of need? Would she really do that? Cal didn't think so, but then here she was, sitting next to him, suggesting that she had changed, that he had changed; everything had changed.

"Tell me about it," he urged. "I want to know."

"And I want you to focus on getting better so you can come home."

Cal watched her. Was that a deflection? It must have been. "Don't change the subject," he tried and she looked a little abashed and he knew he had been right. Maybe he was going to have to learn this all over again as well. He wondered if he could get Loker to sneak in a FACS manual to go through.

"Is it so bad?" He asked softly. "I mean, was our marriage full of problems?"

"No, not problems. You and I have always been solid."

Cal nodded. Even from what he remembered they had been on the same page. They might have had conflicting opinions or methods but somehow they had always ended up on the same page with the same goal in mind. "Gill you talk around and around the subject but you neva really give me ansa's. And what I need are ansa's."

Gillian watched him for a moment. "I don't know where to start."

"At the beginnin'?"

"Where is our beginning?"

Cal thought about that for a moment. Was she referring to the day they met? Or the day he realised he loved her? Or the day she realised she loved him? How about when he divorced Zoe? Or she divorced Alec? When they went into business together? The day they broke even? Turned a profit? So many beginnings...

"What is the last thing you remember Cal?"

They stared each other down for a moment and he realised, on some level, she was in the dark as much as he was. She didn't give him specifics but then neither did he. He didn't tell her what he did or didn't remember. They had both just pinpointed a random date somewhere ten years ago and worked off that assumption. And maybe that wasn't working for them anymore.

"Jenkins," Cal supplied. "I rememba Jenkins."

**PJ**

Cal sat on the couch in his office. There was a bottle of bourbon on the seat next to him and a severe nip of it in the bottom of the plastic cup with blue flowers dotted around it. He was sitting low, slouched right down. He was tired and worn and half asleep. It had been a very long week. The main lights were off and only one lamp was on beside where he was sitting so that it illuminated the room dully. It cast deep shadows that reflected his mood perfectly. The alcohol warmed his stomach nicely and he was calculating just how much he could drink before he would be considered a danger to drive home. And he was considering just how he could get away with not going home at all. He did have a clean shirt in the study in case of emergencies. This could be an emergency.

Cal could hear the click of Gillian's heels as she roamed down the hallway. His stomach tightened in anticipation of seeing her. She was probably coming to say goodnight. But still. That was one of the highlights of his day. Her attention was all for him during those moments. The rest of the building was empty. It was very late after all. In fact, Cal had thought she had gone home, until he heard the familiar cadence of her heels against the polished floors.

She suddenly entered his office and came to sit next to him, as if she knew where he was all along and exactly what he was doing. She silently held out a cup to him to indicate that he should pour. Her plastic cup had pink flowers. Seemed fitting. And also that the two vessels were a pair. Cal doused her cup with a splash from the bottle and as he screwed the lid back on Gillian slipped down the couch so she was in an almost identical position to him, her head resting on the back of the cushion. This was not the first time they had had a commiseratory drink at the end of a particularly draining case.

"How's your jaw?" She asked in a low voice, bringing her cup to her lips to take a sip.

"A little stiff," Cal admitted. It throbbed and the alcohol was not helping it yet. Eventually it would numb everything, right now, it was highlighting everything. Including how Gillian sat so closely he could feel her body warmth despite the fact that they weren't actually touching. Yet.

She nodded. "Terrible week huh?"

"I wasn't too fond of it," Cal agreed, taking a swig of his bourbon.

Gillian took another sip of her drink. She gave a little sigh and Cal felt the need to turn over suddenly to put his arm around her. Last week she had slapped him (not for touching her by the way) and this week an angry father had punched him when Cal had given him a few home truths about the way he was raising his son (completely valid because the father was isolating the son through emotional abuse, by the way). Maybe it wasn't going to be a good month.

"You're not wearin' your weddin' ring," Cal noted. There was that too. Gillian was getting divorced. Her marriage was over and she was hurting because of it. That was part of the reason why Cal wanted to hug her. He wanted to comfort and protect. But the biggest part of it was simply that she was actually finally single, unattached, and so was he, and for once, their timing might just be coming into line.

"I'm getting divorced remember?" Gillian reminded him lightly.

Cal nodded. "Right I forgot about that," he mumbled sleepily. Of course he hadn't. But he didn't want her to know he was obsessively watching every move she and Alec made did he? He was pretty sure that wouldn't go down too well.

"No you didn't," Gillian noted softly. "And I stopped wearing it over a week ago."

"Hm," Cal responded from his throat, surprised she had not only caught him out but called him on it too. He had noticed two days ago when she had actually taken it off (not the exaggerated week ago she claimed) but he wasn't going to admit it.

"I'm also wearing the colour pink today, did you notice that?"

She was. A lovely deep pink shirt with black trousers. She looked good, but then she looked good in anything. She probably looked better in nothing. "I can see you're wearin' pink. Don't you normally wear pink?" Cal squinted at her next to him like the light was too bright in the room. It was hard not to notice Gillian Foster full stop. He wasn't bloody blind.

"I haven't worn pink the entire time we've been working together," Gillian noted sounding amused.

Cal berated himself in his head for not detecting that little snippet of information. He certainly had not noticed she hadn't worn pink clothing in the last six years. On the outside however, he did what he always did and refused to react. He didn't want her to think he had let that slip through the cracks. It was his job to observe all the details around him. He had probably been too distracted. Or maybe he was just trying not to stare at her too hard when she came in in the morning and he delighted in discovering what she had decided to wear that day.

"You never noticed that?" Gillian asked lightly, turning her head to look at him, amusement showing in her blue eyes.

"Why don't you wear pink?" Cal was suddenly intensely curious. "It suits you."

"Alec doesn't like me in pink," Gillian mumbled into her cup.

"Ah," Cal responded shortly. He kicked himself for forcing her husband to be brought up but he understood what she meant. Alec tended to enjoy demure. Funny when he was a coke addict. The tension between them suddenly soared and there was a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Neither one of them wanted to be thinking about Alec right now and they both knew it.

"Are you going home?" Gillian eventually asked.

"Yeah in a minute," Cal agreed. First, he needed his heart to settle down.

A moment of silence.

"Do you have Emily this weekend?" Gillian clearly did not want to sit in silence this evening even though they did at times enjoy an easy peace.

"Nah, she's doin' some weddin' related stuff with her mutha."

"So they set a date?" Gillian was curious.

Cal didn't know what was worse, talking about her husband or his wife. He told her when the wedding was and she asked him if he was going to go. It was a good question. He told her he hadn't decided. Neither of them had mentioned Zoe's wedding in a while, not since their conversation in the conference room last month and Gillian had gently pointed out that he was finding it hard to accept his ex was moving on. Gillian glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye. Cal was finding the table in front of them quite interesting. His eyelids were low so he 'felt' her move more than saw it. He needed the subject to change but didn't want to be the one to make it happen.

"I'm sure she'd understand," Gillian noted lightly, indicating she was concluding Cal would not attend.

"Mm," Cal answered absently. She was probably right though. He probably wouldn't end up going. Why would he? He turned his head towards his partner and suddenly noticed just how close Gillian was sitting. She must have gotten closer to him. Desire sparked and he suddenly felt nervous. "How's things with you?"

Gillian took a beat to answer," Fine." It was her standard response these days. At least this time it sounded marginally true.

"Good," Cal mumbled and took a large mouthful of his drink. It finished what was in the cup and he grimaced as he swallowed it and the lump of anxiety in his throat down. He sat up, feeling his jaw throb as his blood pressure changed. The heat from Gillian was suddenly gone and he felt marginally colder. He glanced back at Gillian who watched him expectantly but he didn't say anything. Despite wanting to. Perhaps he needed more to drink.

Gillian filled the silence instead. "Do you think humanity will ever get to the point where we stop being so cruel to each other?"

If that wasn't an invitation to stay Cal didn't know how to read subtlety. "Probably not," Cal answered turning his lips downward, lest she see how badly he wanted to smile at the idea that she wanted to spend time with him. He was so idiotic sometimes; he was acting like a teenage boy!

"You don't believe that," Gillian accused amused.

"Maybe one day. But not in my life time. Othawise we'd be out of a job and then what would we do?"

"That's a good point," she answered lightly. "Maybe retire on a beach somewhere."

Cal pictured her in a bikini.

She sat up too and placed her empty cup on the table. "That would be nice," she sighed.

'_So would the bikini_.'

She turned her head to face him and he stared at how close her lips were and how full they were and red and... They looked so inviting, so kissable. Her arm was resting against his and he could feel the warmth of her. The contact was not uncomfortable in the least and neither of them pulled away at the touch. Cal noted particularly that Gillian did not pull away from him. She reached up her hand to place her fingers tenderly over the red mark on his jaw that tomorrow would be a distinctive bruise. Cal felt his breath shallow out. He didn't dare move.

"Does it hurt much?" She asked gently, her eyes shifting from the damage to his eyes.

"Nah," Cal dismissed easily. He watched her for a moment, noted how her blue eyes searched his and her breath was just as undetectable as his. He felt suddenly warm; her hand felt suddenly fiery. He leaned towards her and kissed her. It was a mere brushing of lips; he just wanted to know what it felt like and he was already scared that he had over stepped his mark. His stomach flipped over despite his brain trying to exercise caution. How long had he wanted to do that? The kiss lasted just a few seconds and when he pulled away Gillian's features morphed from genuine surprise to the shock she wanted him to see. Her hand belatedly dropped from his cheek.

"What was that?" She asked softly, a mere whisper, her blue eyes flickered back and forth, searching his for answers.

"I just wanted to see somethin'," Cal responded in a low tone.

"See what?" Gillian pressed.

"Don't worry about it," he said softly, sure now that she had not felt what he felt and he was making a fool of himself.

Her forehead creased. "You're drunk," she surmised.

"I'm not drunk," Cal countered firmly. He wouldn't let her think this was one of his stupid drunk mistakes. "No."

Gillian was clearly very confused. Cal could see it on her face and he wanted to assure her that this was what he wanted and yet, he hesitated because he wasn't sure this was what he wanted. He wanted to kiss her, sure, but... with Gillian, it wasn't just fooling around. It was commitments and relationships and it was jumping in with both feet. And Cal was too scared to do that. He watched as the thoughts and emotions flickered through her eyes. Suddenly she seemed annoyed. "Did you get what you wanted?"

Cal gave her a slight 'puppy dog' expression, a cross between being sheepish and unapologetic. He didn't answer her. Just watched as her cheeks suddenly flushed red and she leaned forward to kiss him this time. But she was far more passionate about it than he had been and he responded automatically to her. Gillian opened her mouth beneath his, inviting him to more. Her hand came to rest tenderly on his jaw again, holding him in place as their lips moved against each others.

Cal moved his hand to her elbow, reciprocating her move because he didn't want her to go either. He didn't want this to ever end. It was heaven on earth. It was heaven within his embrace. She smelt so amazing, she always did, but he was normally used to subtle drifts of her scent in the air of the room, or when she breezed by him during the day, not this heady overwhelming of his senses. He breathed deeply, taking in more of her. Gillian shifted her body closer to his, her tongue pressed delicately against his lips and when he opened his mouth fully to let her in she softly explored his mouth. He just about died. Literally. He felt his heart seize painfully and his internal organs jumble up into a mess. She gave a little whimper and he held her tighter, wanting to press her back against the couch to feel all of her.

A first kiss had never felt this good.

'_Good god!_' Cal gulped. How was he ever going to get over this? For the first time in his life he understood what it really meant to be high.

After a few moments they pulled apart but kept their foreheads close, loath to lose contact completely while they had to catch air. Cal could feel Gillian's muscles shift as her emotions played out on her face. He wanted to pull back further to see, but he didn't want to break their connection. He kept his thoughts in check but underneath his well worn facade, his heart pounded just as hard as hers did.

Gillian suddenly pulled away from him completely and stood up in one fluid motion, so Cal didn't have time to realise she was getting up and stop her. "I should go home," she noted, refusing to look him in the eye.

Cal watched her walk around the coffee table and head for the door, her heels clicking over the hard floor. "Goodnight," he finally found his voice when she reached the doorway.

Gillian didn't look back.


	28. Chapter 28

"Must have been a good kiss," Cal noted slyly.

Gillian allowed a slight smirk. "Yeah it was."

"So what happened next? Tell me I went afta you that night." His heart rate increased slightly with anticipation.

"No actually, you avoided me for a few days and pretended nothing happened."

'_I did?_' Cal gave a slight frown.

"And finally I couldn't stand it any longer."

Cal gave her a sudden grin. This sounded good! "And then what?"

Gillian gave him a slightly disparaging expression. "It's not what you think."

"We didn't go at it?"

A laugh escaped Gillian despite herself and she found it a little difficult to meet his piercing eyes. "No."

"Course not. You don't put out on first dates."

"Cal!" Gillian exclaimed shocked at his blatant-ness.

"Well it's true," he feigned innocence.

Gillian gave him a suspicious expression. "How do you know that's true?"

Cal realised she was asking him what he remembered from their first date but he drew a blank on that subject. Didn't mean he drew a blank on her completely. "From what I've heard."

Gillian narrowed her eyes at him good-naturedly. "What did you hear? Who were you talking to?"

"I might have, sort of, maybe, asked a few people about you."

Gillian was genuinely surprised now. "When?"

"Afta we met. I asked around."

"Of course you did," Gillian shifted in her chair so she could cross her other leg over her knee. Cal watched the movement of her legs and Gillian watched him study her. Despite his cheekiness, she was actually enjoying the conversation. It was the most they had talked in months for her, weeks for Cal. They were actually connecting again. In fact, it was almost like old times. Really old times, when he said outrageous things to embarrass her and push her buttons. Which made sense, because everything she had just told him about their first kiss didn't happen for him. He was still in the 'pulling her pigtails' stage of things right now. He hadn't had the chance yet to move beyond it. She wondered if that meant everything had reverted back. Would he still love her? Or was there the potential for him to never fall for her now?

"What else did you find out?" Gillian challenged, forcing those fears aside. It would be better to just focus on the moment in hand. Worrying about the future was pointless when she had no control over it. She needed to just push forward one day at a time. She needed to build up their relationship again, like Casey had suggested.

"I found out you were a good girl, raised in a middle class workin' family, you wrote your thesis in record time and graduated top of your class."

Gillian watched him impassively. "Anyone could have found that out."

"I also found out you have a birthmark the shape of jaguar on your arse."

Gillian fixed him with an unimpressed expression. "That's not even remotely true."

"Not a pantha or some otha large feline," Cal held up a finger to ward off any sort of protest. "But a jaguar. They were quite specific."

"And who told you this misinformation?"

"I was just hopin' you might let slip, in your rush to correct me, that you do have a birthmark on your rude bits."

Gillian shifted forward so her chin was almost leaning on the pillow next to where Cal rested his head. "When you get home I'll let you find out for yourself."

Gillian watched amused as Cal's pale blue eyes widened slightly. "Promise?" He asked, his throat suddenly dry, his voice losing its control.

Gillian's hand shifted to his and squeezed his fingers. "Promise," she gave another quick squeeze.

Cal gaped at her for a moment and there it was: open flirting.

"But you have to come home."

"What do I have to do?" Cal asked still feeling mesmerised. His stomach was all watery. Were her eyes dilated right now? Because it looked like it.

He meant: what did he have to do to get home, so Gillian responded to that question. He might not believe it, but he didn't have to do much to get her to let him see her rude bits. "You have to do what the doctor tells you and what Adam tells you."

Cal rolled his eyes heavily.

"Which I know is very difficult for you," Gillian added. "Because you don't like to do what you're told."

Cal sighed and turned his head away. "Yeah yeah."

Gillian pulled back to sit up straight again. "I'm just saying."

Cal looked at her once more. "That's what I say," he was amazed.

Gillian gave a slight shrug. "I guess you rub off on me."

Cal's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. If he was looking for proof they had a relationship there was some more of it. She had picked up his sayings. Impressive. "What I want is to get the hell out of here," Cal told her.

"You know what Doctor Rockwell and Adam want right?"

'_Yeah, yeah_,' Cal repeated.

"They just want you to get better," Gillian answered herself when Cal didn't.

"I know," Cal responded gently.

"And I want you to come home," Gillian added, reaching out a hand to stroke his cheek. Cal watched her face, her eyes, the genuine care in them. He nodded. He understood what she meant. She meant drop the attitude. Drop the resistance. Play the game. Come home to her. Please.

"Now, who the hell were you talking to about me and first dates?"

**PJ**

Gillian left the hospital feeling lighter than she had in quite a while. They were talking again and she knew, even if things were in a strange balance at the moment, that if they kept on talking, kept on reconnecting, then it would work out ok in the end. They had always had that. They had always understood each other. She had hope. She text Emily to say she would pick Lewis up from day care herself and would she mind making her visit to her father later in the evening so she and Lewis could spend some time with him alone? Emily was quite happy to oblige.

"Mum!" Lewis spotted her as soon as she walked through the day care centre's door. He rushed over. "Look what's for Dad!"

It was a finger painting. Sometimes he felt very abstract and painted a mess of colours and shapes, blended together into nothing coherent. Today there were actual discernable images. "It's lovely," Gillian responded crouching down to his level so he could show it to her. She was pleased to see 'Cal' was no longer some speck in the distance, or living in a tree or on a cloud, but next to the 'slide' in the 'playground' with 'Lewis'. "Shall we take it to show Dad?" She pointed to her palm with her right index finger and then moved both hands, still connected, away from her. She didn't direct them at Lewis though, because he was not the person she intended to show.

Lewis nodded vigorously. Gillian told him to get his bag and lunch box and he ran off again, leaving her with the picture. Lisa, who was the head of the centre, approached Gillian with a smile. "Lewis has been very talkative about his Dad this week."

Gillian smiled. Lewis had been over excited that Cal was awake. It was a shame the excitement didn't go both ways. But, Gillian knew, Cal was just having a hard time processing he had a son. With the progress they had made that afternoon, she hoped a visit would be more receptive.

"I take it he's doing much better?" Lisa finished.

"Yeah," Gillian nodded. "Much better."

"That's great to hear."

"How's Lewis been with going to the toilet?"

"Well we've been writing things down in his book," Lisa started. The book the day care insisted each of their charges keep so any events could be written down for parents they didn't see on a regular basis. Gillian read Lewis's book every day but it depended on who wrote in it. Sometimes it said nothing at all. Other times there were detailed 'notes' of what Lewis had been up to that day. "He's been good the last few days with reminders."

Gillian nodded. She had unpacked his bag to find a wet set of clothes yesterday but sometimes she didn't remember what he had dressed himself in that morning and so didn't notice if he came home in something borrowed.

"Is he still wetting the bed?" Lisa queried.

"Sometimes," Gillian wanted to defend him. She didn't let him drink anything after dinner and made sure he went to the toilet right before he put the light out but sometimes even that didn't help. She knew it was psychological. She knew it was regression. She knew it was because his father was in the hospital.

"He'll come right," Lisa told her with a reassuring tone. They already had a plan in place for dealing with it. Gillian liked that about the day care. They worked with parents to try and keep equilibrium.

Lewis rushed up to where they were talking. "Ready!" He announced.

"Ok," Gillian handed him back his painting. "Say goodbye," she made the sign.

"Bye," Lewis waved at Lisa who waved back with a smile.

"See you tomorrow Lewis."

"Thank you," Gillian added to her farewell, making eye contact with the other woman.

"Fank ooo," Lewis echoed, reaching for his mother's hand as they turned to walk away.

"That was very polite," Gillian made an open handed gesture in front of her chest, keeping her palm facing the floor as she spoke to her son while they walked.

Lewis beamed up at her, looking so much like Cal, with a smile on his face that seemed to hide something he knew but she didn't. "Loverly," Lewis told her.

"Lovely," Gillian agreed.

Lewis sang while they drove to the hospital and skipped along beside his mother as they travelled through different corridors to Cal's new room in the rehab facility. Before they had gone in Gillian had reminded him to be quiet and to hold her hand, to not run off and make a big noise because people were sick there and needed to rest to get better. Lewis nodded solemnly, and while he didn't run off or scream down the hallway, he did point out different people and weird looking medical contraptions with interest.

"Is Daddy sleepy?" Lewis asked as they turned the last corner.

"No, Dad's not asleep anymore remember?"

"Oh," Lewis looked confused. "But he might be sleepy now."

"He could be," Gillian agreed. "But he already had an afternoon nap."

"Quieten has a nap," Lewis told her. 'Quieten' was meant to be Quinton. He was a six month old baby at the day care Lewis had taken a liking to. Lewis called Quinton his friend and Lisa said he had taken quite the affinity to the baby. Gillian supposed that had happened because of Lily.

They reached Cal's room and found him sitting in the armchair across the room. He looked up as they came in and gave a smile. "Dad!" Lewis dropped Gillian's hand and raced to him. "Look what's for you," he shoved the finger painting into Cal's grasp.

"For me?" Cal queried, his tone rising in pitch as he spoke to the child. Lewis snatched the picture back and displayed it for him.

"This is me and you and the slide."

"Wow," Cal admired. "It's lovely."

Gillian put her purse on the end of Cal's made bed. He still seemed to be a in a good mood since she left him.

"Is it for my wall?"

Lewis nodded.

"Shall we get Mum to put it up?"

Lewis turned, the painting still in his hand, and approached her. "Here Mum," he offered it to her.

"Would you like me to put it on the wall for you Lewis?"

"Yes pease."

"Lovely manners," Gillian told him crossing to the wall opposite Cal's bed and selecting a pin from the cluster. "Here?" She placed the paper flat against the wall.

"Loverly," Lewis agreed.

Cal watched them from his chair. Lovely was also something he said and he noted, now that he had noticed Gillian used his phrases, that Lewis said it too and so did his wife. If this was one big set up the attention to detail was quite amazing. Lewis had Cal's hands and the same coloured eyes and he said words like 'Mum' instead of 'Mom'.

Gillian tacked the picture to the wall. It was covered in tiny little pin prick holes where previous occupants had had visual aids displayed to help them remember certain things. Cal's wall was decorated in Lewis's art. He wrote down the things he wanted to remember in a notebook under his pillow. He hadn't told Gillian about it yet.

"Did you have nice day Dad?" Lewis asked him, making a sign by his forehead that Cal was starting to realise meant him directly. He was going to have to ask Gillian about the signing because Lewis signed a lot and Gillian even more and Cal had no idea what they were saying. Even when he linked signs to words he didn't remember them too well, nor did he feel confident enough to repeat them.

"Yes very good. How was your day?"

"We did paintings and singing and then on the slide," Lewis told him. He chatted away about Quinton and his other friends and the tower he had built. Gillian crossed the room to stand by the window. Cal made appropriate noises of interest but she could tell he was struggling. He didn't speak Lewis's unique brand of 'language'; half of what he said was probably going over his father's head. Gillian was the same with children she didn't know very well. If she was lucky she could make out a few key words and guess the rest of what was said.

'_Good lord he can talk_,' Cal thought to himself as the boy rambled on. He needed an interpreter. Too bad she was staring out the window right now, leaving them to it. He needed her, in so many ways, but for this in particular. He had too much to catch up on and it felt like not enough time. What was he going to do when he got home and he was suddenly there twenty-four hours a day?

Cal picked up on 'story' and all of a sudden realised Lewis was asking him if he wanted to read a book. "Yeah a story would be delightful," Cal told his son's expectant expression, eyebrows raised, blue eyes questioning.

Lewis turned and went to his mother's bag. He pulled a picture book from within and brought it back to where his father was sitting. Gillian turned to lean against the window sill, the sun warming her back. Lewis stood in front of Cal awkwardly, he opened the book and then looked unsure about how Cal was going to see it if he was over there and Lewis was over there facing him. "Come and sit up here," Cal offered.

Lewis climbed up his shins. Cal reached for him but struggled to pull him to his lap. Lewis wasn't much help at all and Gillian quickly intervened so neither of them would get hurt. She felt bad that Cal couldn't even lift their son anymore but was also thrilled he had attempted the gesture. Up until now, he had almost treated Lewis with contempt. She lifted Lewis easily, turned him and sat him on Cal's thighs.

"Betta," Lewis announced as he settled and pulled the book around so he could open it again. "Now upony time," he started to read, hunched over the first page.


	29. Chapter 29

Cal was sitting up in bed waiting. He had just finished his breakfast and this was around the time Gillian usually showed up for her morning visit. The last few days had gone really well in regards to getting closer to her. While she might have been cagey about their marriage and what Cal figured was at least three major events, (not including the IVF and Lewis's birth, which was another event itself but one she was more willing to talk about than the other three), Gillian was very enthusiastic about talking about Lewis. She happily answered Cal's questions about the day care he attended and his friends there. She happily related anecdotes of Lewis being cute, or discovering something new, or being completely compassionate.

Cal listened avidly. He really was rapt. But that might have been more about the glint in her eye and the smile on her lips as she talked about their son. He worked up the courage to tell her that he needed her help with information and that he was going to write some of it down. She agreed but she still seemed surprised when he produced his notebook and flipped to a page near the middle. She wanted to know what he wanted to know. He told her all of it. So she told Cal about Lewis's favourite colours, TV shows, songs, toys, friends at day care; his doctor, speech therapist and day care staff. She told him about Lewis's first steps, his first words, the day he had gone to get his hearing aids. And what had led to the detection of his hearing loss, the process the doctor's had gone through and what it meant for him in the future. Which brought Cal around nicely to the subject of sign language. Gillian explained how it had been her idea to learn it and to teach it to Lewis. Cal asked her if he had also learnt to sign.

"Of course you can," she answered.

Cal nodded and noted they were both talking as if his memories were suddenly going to come back to him. "You might have to teach me," Cal tested and sure enough he was right, Gillian looked a little startled.

"Yeah of course," she agreed but she said it softly as if it saddened her.

It was a mood killer. Every reminder of his lack of memory hurt her.

A figure came through the doorway and Cal turned his attention quickly. It wasn't Gillian, it was one of the staff, coming to clear away his empty breakfast tray. Well mostly empty, his stomach still wasn't quite used to a large meal of regular food but he was getting there. Physical therapy certainly helped to work up his appetite again and he would much rather chew and swallow food than have it pumped into his stomach directly. He wanted to pick the scab the feeding tube had left behind so badly.

"You managed most of it today," Steven noted.

"Yep," Cal agreed. Except the rockmelon, he just didn't like it.

"Is Gillian coming in this morning?" Steven asked as he shifted the portable table back out of the way.

"I hope so," Cal answered firmly.

"Have a good one," the orderly offered in departure.

"You too," Cal reciprocated as he left. And then he was back to waiting. He hoped she wouldn't be too much longer otherwise Adam would show up and whisk Cal away and then he wouldn't get as much time with her. She came back in the afternoons and they usually got more time then but sometimes she had Lewis with her and sometimes Emily showed up or someone else did to interrupt. Now that he had gotten her talking about their history he wanted to know more and more. He was learning about their past but he was also learning how to be around Gillian again. She hadn't changed much and yet she had changed quite a lot.

The second person to enter his room within the next five minutes _was_ Gillian. She was dressed for the work day, as she always was when she came to see him in the morning, in a light blue flowing skirt, bright red tank top with a jewelled butterfly on the front and a light brown waist length jacket. "Hi," she greeted him with a breezy smile. She leaned in for a quick kiss and as she pulled back her hand was in his and she was squeezing his fingers. She moved so fluently, so assuredly, so un-self-consciously while every move Cal made was calculated and conscious.

"Hi," Cal greeted feeling what was becoming a familiar squirm of his stomach. "Ready?"

"Sure," she responded amicably.

Cal sat up further and swung his legs slowly over the edge of the bed. Gillian brought the wheelchair, that had now taken up a permanent residence in Cal's room so that he could leave of his own accord, or at least with supervision, closer to the bed. Cal slipped down to the ground and swung himself around in one movement so he landed in the seat. He lifted his feet to the foot rests. "Ready?" Gillian asked him, waiting until he was settled.

"Yep. Let's roll," Cal indicated with his hand. If she got there first she was allowed to take him down to therapy. It was a small gesture, but one that Cal liked. He knew she wanted to be involved in his recovery and quite frankly, he enjoyed being the centre of her attention. Besides, what else was she going to do? Do the therapy for him? It was her way of supporting him, even if it was small.

Gillian pushed him through the corridors, smiling at the staff she knew as they went by. They grinned on back. Everyone there knew exactly what was happening. They knew today was the day Cal was to attempt walking the bars without using the supports. He had been doing weight training as well as yoga to strengthen his body again. After a week of progress Adam felt he was ready. To at least try it. The bars would be right there if he still needed them.

Gillian rounded the last corner and approached the double doors to the physical therapy suit. The doors opened on automatic sensors. Adam was standing by the desk signing paperwork. He looked over and gave them a smile as they approached. "How are you feeling today?" He asked Cal.

"Fightin' fit," he responded.

"Great. Let's get started then," Adam clicked his pen and deposited it in a cup on the desk. He gestured that Gillian and Cal should lead the way.

**PJ**

Cal stood in the middle of the bars. He was still holding on, annoyed that his balance was just slightly off. He joked with Gillian that the scar on his head was making one side of him heavier than the other but she didn't seem to find that very funny and he made a mental note to ask her about exactly what had happened while he had been comatose. He sensed there was more to the story than she was letting on. There was so much more to every story than she let on but he was trying very hard not to push her. He didn't know if she had a grand plan about what she was going to reveal when, but she certainly was adamant about refusing to talk about certain subjects. She promised she would but not just yet.

At least when he stood now, Cal's legs didn't shake, and when he leaned on his arms they also didn't quiver under his weight. He had put on muscle but could tell he was still mostly skin and bone. It suddenly occurred to him that he should ask for a mirror. Seeing as he refused to shave he hadn't really had a good excuse to sneak a look at himself. But now the thought had popped into his head he was suddenly curious. He must look different. He must have aged. But how different did he really look. Would he recognise himself? And how nasty was that scar really? It felt quite intense under his fingertips.

"Just when you're ready," Adam coaxed from directly in front of him, ready to catch Cal should he need it.

Cal nodded. "Yeah," he agreed. He took a steadying breath. Gillian was on his left, waiting just as patiently as the physical therapist but he could feel the excited energy emanating from her. This was one of those poignant moments in his recovery. If he could manage this he would be half way to going home. He really wanted out of the rehab facility too. He was bored shitless when Gillian wasn't around to talk to. She had brought him books to read (his books and one of her journal articles as he had requested and a few of the last fictional novels he had read that were still around the house) but his attention span was short and he was distracted too easily; the words blurred together.

Cal lifted his hands from the bars and was pleased when he didn't immediately take a nose dive to the floor. He felt steady, confident. This was walking. He had been doing it since he was one and a half. That was a very long time. Over fifty years (he had worked that out while he had also worked out how old he currently was based on the year Gillian had told him it was). With his arms still raised Cal took a step forward. He brought his other foot up to rest next to his right. Baby steps. Literally. He remembered Emily learning to walk like this. And if the account Gillian had relayed for him was anything to go by, so had Lewis.

"Great," Adam enthused gently, backing up a step accordingly.

Cal repeated the movement, feeling a little wobbly. But his muscles weren't freaking out on him and he took that as a very good sign.

**PJ**

"I'm so proud of you," Gillian's hand smoothed over Cal's cheek, near his eye, where she was also gazing intently. He loved that look in her eye. That was what he recognised as adoration and it made him feel warm and hopeful inside. Cal was resting on his bed after his attempt at a solo walk and he was tired. Too tired for sitting up and being social. He might actually go for a nap as soon as Gillian decided to go to work. But he wasn't going to kick her out. She was in the visitor's chair by the bed, leaning so far over Cal could see down the front of her top. But it must have been uncomfortable sitting like that for her back.

Cal reached up and took her hand in his left. He tugged on it so her elbow was extended. Gillian gave him a questioning raise of her eyebrows. Cal pulled on her hand harder so she got to her feet. "Come and lie with me," he murmured, pulling her so she was flush against the bed.

"I don't think I should," she responded nervously.

"Come and cuddle with me," Cal urged gently.

"Aren't there rules?"

"What rules?" Cal frowned. "I'm not allowed to cuddle with my wife?" Gillian's hesitation vanished at the use of the 'w' word but she still didn't make a move to climb on to the bed. "I'll make room," Cal told her, shifting his legs over. It took some effort and a small amount of pain from his stiffened hips to drag them back over the mattress too. She tried to stop him then but he kept going, lastly moving his torso back to reveal half the bed. As it was, she was still going to have to lie embraced in his arms to not fall off. That wouldn't really be a bad thing would it?

With one last glance at the door, as if they were going to be busted in the act, Gillian climbed awkwardly to the bed. Her hand pressed against Cal's chest and she leaned over him as she shifted her weight. "I'm sure I'm flashing my underwear to the corridor," she muttered, reaching behind her to straighten her skirt.

"I'll have a look," Cal offered lifting his shoulders off the bed. Gillian pressed him back with her hand and a short laugh. "Oh my god I just realised somethin'," Cal looked up at her before she could speak. She hovered over him, tense, waiting for him to reveal whatever it was that had occurred to him; her scent drifting over him effortlessly. "I can go through your undawear drawer when I get home."

Gillian gave him a slightly disparaging expression. "You have to get home first," was her response as she lowered herself to lie over his arm. Her head rested on the pillow next to his and with both of them on their sides their faces were mere inches apart.

"That sounded like an invitation," Cal teased gently, taking her hand within his. His stomach had tightened up again.

Gillian gave a slight smile but didn't respond and it made him wonder why they got so close to flirting and talking about their life as a married couple and she would just clam up. It only fed his theory that something had happened, something significant, something one of them or both of them should be ashamed of.

Cal brought her hand closer to his face. "Can I take a look at your weddin' ring?" Which was not at all why he had wanted her closer but sure was a very nice way to get conversation rolling.

"Sure," Gillian responded lightly.

Cal bent her fingers to take a closer look. "Is it engraved?"

"No."

The band was thin and a pale gold so it almost looked silver. From a distance Cal thought it _was_ silver but now he could see that wasn't true. He could also see it was similar to the one Alec had given her (and yes he'd spent far too much time studying that one when she wore it; there was just something sexy about Gillian and a wedding ring) and he wondered if the resemblance was close because it suited her slender fingers or there was some sick desire at consistency.

"Did I pick it?"

"Yes," Gillian affirmed. "I picked yours."

Cal raised his left hand so he could compare them next to each other. His was the same colour but the band slightly thicker. "Are they simila on purpose?"

"I don't know," Gillian sounded pleasantly surprised as she also studied the two pieces of jewellery. "I never really thought about that."

"Hm," Cal noted and lowered her hand to the mattress again, linking his fingers loosely between hers. It felt great to be able to do that. It was too hard to try and be affectionate when she was in a chair on another level to him. And now that he was sure he was allowed to be affectionate... he actually wanted to. He shifted his head up slightly to be able to look her in the eye. There was that adoration again. He closed the few inches between them to press his lips against hers.

She was surprised, he could feel it in the hesitation of her lips and the slight withdrawal as she attempted to move away from him but then her hand was on his cheek and she moved her lips against his, making the kiss far more intimate than he had initiated and gave a little sigh of delight. Cal wasn't sure if it was the soft pressure of her lips, the sudden wash of her scent over him, the warmth of her body or the sigh that thrilled him but he was delighted at her response. Her hand squeezed his and he felt her hips shift to press against his and he knew from all those signals that they had done this before. Probably many times. This was not a new experience for her. She was not shy about it, not like he was. She knew what she wanted and what she wanted was him and she went for it. Gillian pulled away slightly and Cal followed her with his mouth, mere fractions of inches of movement and indecision. What he wanted was her. It had always been her.

Gillian was more determined this time when she pulled back. Her head travelled further and her hand on his chest pushed him gently at the same time. "Cal," she warned. She seemed to struggle. "We can't."

"Kiss?"

"Here," she clarified.

"Why?"

"Because someone could walk in any moment."

"So lock the door."

She gave him a disparaging expression.

"I like kissin' you," Cal told her sincerely.

She almost winced and covered it with a sigh. "I like kissing you too," she reciprocated in a murmur. "But this isn't really the time or place." And when she finally looked him in the eye he could see that her pupils were larger than they normally were and that was very fascinating.

"Kissin' is all I'm really up for right now," Cal retorted, though he wanted to do so much more with her. Always.

She almost smiled. Almost. "Cal," she warned again. "Stop it."

"Are we happy Gill?" Cal asked softly, his gaze intent on hers. Up close he could see her freckles. They hadn't changed either but he was pretty sure he hadn't been allowed so close to them before now. What other privileges did he now have as her husband? Aside from the obvious.

"Right now?" She asked with a slight frown. He wasn't 'happy', she could tell, but he wouldn't be able to tell that she was. She sub-consciously pressed her thighs together against the tingle in her groin. She knew this was a bad idea, getting this close to him. It had been too long; her self-control was having difficulty.

"Well," Cal started as if the answer to that were obvious. "I meant in general. Are we happy?"

"Yes," Gillian answered easily.

Cal studied her face for a moment. She didn't seem to be lying. And normally Cal would be satisfied with that response but then there were those 'incidents' he knew she was hiding from him. "They want me to see a shrink."

"Would that be so bad?"

"You knew about this?" Cal was surprised.

"It was mentioned in your recovery plan."

Cal shifted away to better see her face. "Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Gillian wasn't sure if that sounded like an accusation. "I," she started. She didn't really have a good excuse. "I didn't think to." Or maybe she had expected Doctor Rockwell to discuss it further with her, given her expertise, or at least give her a heads up, before he mentioned it to Cal.

Cal turned away from her slightly and she felt his absence too keenly; not just in the gesture. "I don't need a shrink," he muttered.

"You've been through a lot," Gillian pointed out gently.

"Yeah I bloody know that and the last thing I need is some therapist holdin' my bloody hand and askin' me how I feel about that," Cal snapped. "The stupid docta won't let me leave until I have a chat with someone. What a load," Cal went on. "I told him to get stuffed."

Gillian sat up abruptly and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

"Wait," Cal was startled by the move and was therefore delayed in reaching out to try and stop her.

"Do you even want to come home Cal?" Gillian turned on him.

He blinked, surprised by the emotion in her tone and the fierce accusation on her face.

"To me and Lewis. Do you even want to come home?"

"I," Cal started stunned. His mouth worked over empty sounds. "I don't know," he admitted honestly.


	30. Chapter 30

Gillian gave a great, heavy sigh and turned away from him (but she didn't run). She needed a moment to get herself together again. She ran her fingers over her scalp crushing the tension she felt underneath her fingernails so it could fizzle into the air with an almost audible hiss.

"Come on Gill that's not a fair question," Cal implored from the bed where he struggled to shift himself into a sitting position. He couldn't go after her and that was too frustrating to even think about. "I don't know what I want or need right now." She could simply walk out the door and he would not be able to stop her, at least not physically, so he needed to keep her in the room with the one asset that had not abandoned him; his mouth.

"Yeah and Doctor Rockwell is in the position to tell you what you need," Gillian turned on him. She was now a few meters across the room and clearly agitated but she had, at least, turned around.

"It's not that I don't want to be with you," Cal tried.

"You know what?" Gillian approached. "You don't have to. You didn't sign up for any of this. Me or Lewis. As far as you're concerned this has all been pressed upon you."

"No, that's not what I said," Cal tried to back track, suddenly alarmed. Or at least, feeling panicked for a second as some other force stole over him.

"No it's a fair point," she told him lightly. "Two weeks ago it was two thousand and nine. We were business partners and nothing more. If that's what you want..."

"Of course that's not what I bloody want!" Cal exclaimed terrified that she was suddenly slipping through his grasp, and he had just started to hold on. "That's not fair to me."

"No, you know what's not fair to _me_?" Gillian gestured to her chest viciously, her face severe. "Is that it was all taken away from me and yet here you are, sitting before me, real, tangible, awake and yet, what have I got to show for ten years of being with you Cal? Nothing!"

Cal recoiled like he had been slapped. She never got his angry. And he wasn't sure how one little comment of his had provoked such a reaction.

"I'm sorry Doctor Rockwell has made seeing a therapist a condition of your release. That's really tough for you," she told him sardonically.

Cal gaped. He had never seen her like this before.

"But you know what?" She approached again, her blue eyes boring into his. "Here's something that will really blow your mind. You've seen a shrink before. And guess what? The world didn't fall apart, your head didn't implode. It was so good for you. It was one of the best things that ever happened to our marriage. Sometimes I think if you hadn't gone, we wouldn't have made it. But forget it." She spun away from him, snatching her bag from where she had left it. Before she walked away she shot in parting: "But of course, you already have."

Cal watched her leave completely stunned. He didn't know if he should be excited by the fireworks (he did like it when she fought back after all) or sickened that he had triggered them and worse still, if he should dwell over what she had actually said to him. He had no idea where to start on that one but she looked stricken and guilty and bump on the head or not, he never wanted to see her that way. In fact, if he thought about it, she had probably gone through just as much hell as he had, with them being married and him comatose for a month and now him not remembering so many details from their life together. Details. That was a laugh! He didn't remember a single day of it. But he must. The memories can't have just fallen out of his head. They must still be in there somewhere. Surely it was just a case of him being unable to access them.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath and focussed until he could feel his head start to throb. Nothing. He didn't know what he was trying to remember. Perhaps he should pick a specific subject. Like... their first... date. Had he picked her up? Cal tried to remember. He really did try. He imagined himself in the car on the way in the hope it would trigger the real memory and it would take over but it was like a barrier had been put up across his memory lane. It was like being on the cusp of recalling something but never quite reaching it. Frustrated, Cal launched his pillow across the room. And when that was entirely unsatisfying, the book on the bedside table. That made the perfect thud as it first hit the wall and then the floor.

"Argh!" Cal cried at it. He wanted to throw something else but the effort of heaving the book, on top of the work he had already done in physical therapy that day, left him feeling weak. He actually felt a little light headed. He closed his eyes and threw his head back against the mattress, narrowly missing the wooden board at the top of the bed. The last thing he needed right now was to hit his head again.

"Everything ok?" A voice in the doorway queried.

"Get out!" Cal screamed. He opened his eyes in time to catch the blurry image of a white uniformed person turning to walk away. His eyes burned and watered with pent up anger. "Fuck!" He raged again. Gillian was frustrated, he was fucking frustrated! He was trapped here in this stupid fucking rehab facility while he was taught to suck eggs from some jumped up physical therapist and wanking doctor.

All right fuck this. He wasn't just going to sit in bed while life happened around him and his faux marriage fell apart and he didn't even know why. This was exactly the reason he wanted someone to just fucking tell him what had been happening. He was pushing buttons of hers he didn't even know existed. And Gillian wanted to talk about what was fair and unfair? Cal sat up abruptly, the room spinning slightly. He ignored it as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed off so he slid to his feet. He managed one step before the world tilted completely and he realised the floor was rushing up to meet him.

**PJ**

Gillian got as far as her car before she started to break down. Once inside, she collapsed into tears until her hands shook and her face tingled. She shouldn't have done that. She really shouldn't have. It was not his fault. He hadn't gone off to do something reckless. He hadn't even purposefully put himself in danger this time. She had no reason to be so angry with him (well, actually, yes she did but it wasn't like he was responsible for or deserving of her anger). It was just that, who else did she have? There was Casey of course but explaining the nuances would take too long and she would make Gillian work out a logical course of action and what Gillian wanted was to just get angry. She need to vent and get pissed off and let it out. There were those little white pills, which were meant to make her feel better, but they would suppress who she was and at the very least she owed Cal the truth of her didn't she? Just maybe not so much truth. Not yet.

Gillian reached into the glove compartment for the tissues she kept there. She dabbed at the tears in her makeup and wiped her eyes carefully. She applied a little more replacement eyeliner and mascara and just as she was starting to sniffle away the last of her water works and actually compose herself her phone rang and made her jump.

"Yes?" She answered, hoping it was not work calling to spread her thin. It wasn't. It was the charge nurse inside the building she was still parked outside of.

"Cal's had a fall."

"He's what?" Gillian's voice rose in surprise.

"He tried to get out of bed on his own."

"I'll be right in," Gillian hung up on the woman.

**PJ**

"I'm fine, Gill, tell them I'm fine."

Gillian looked at him and he looked at her and something passed between them. This was significant, she could tell. He was asking her to be on his side and she could concede that maybe, up until now, maybe she hadn't been... maybe. In her own way, she had been against him. Subtly trying to control him and... Perhaps she should have ranted at herself instead. "He's fine," Gillian stepped closer. "It's just a busted nose right?"

"Well yeah," the nurse noted dubiously. "I still think I should let Doctor Rockwell know. Or at least the shift doctor."

Gillian waved the comments away. "I'll talk to Doctor Rockwell myself. It's ok."

Another dubious hesitation. "If you're sure."

"Yeah I'm sure," Gillian fixed the young woman with a warm smile and a promise.

"Thank you," Cal said, his gaze on the nurse but Gillian felt as though he was talking to her as well.

The nurse left and Gillian followed after her to push the door closed. She turned back to Cal. "You look terrible."

"Thanks a lot."

She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"So am I. This hurts like a mutha fu..."

"I meant about going off at you before," she glanced down at her hands.

"I'm sorry about that too," Cal removed the tissue from his nose. He inspected the blood and then rearranged the wad to get a clean section. He dabbed it to his nose to check to see if the blood had stopped.

"Half of that wasn't even about you."

"But half of it was and you're right, I've been feelin' sorry for myself." Cal decided his nose was clear. Gillian lifted the bin for him to throw the tissues in.

"I don't blame you. I can't imagine what it's like."

"And I can't imagine what you're goin' through," Cal reasoned. He looked up at her. Gillian reached into her purse for a damp cloth she still kept around just in case Lewis needed cleaning up. She reached for his face and he watched, first startled, then relaxed as she gently wiped a smear of blood away from the corner of his mouth. "So are we even then?" Cal tried.

"I guess," Gillian responded dubiously.

Cal caught her wrist and shifted his fingers down her skin so he could squeeze her hand in the silence. "Are we all right?" He asked sincerely.

Gillian didn't answer because she didn't know. She would always be there for him. Phone calls in the dead of the night and all. But as for them being 'all right', she really didn't know. Not anymore. Maybe it was time to admit defeat.

"Emily tells me we're strong and we're always on each otha's side and we have a very good marriage."

"She told you that?"

"She told me how she perceives our relationship. She told me she asked you how to make it work and that she hoped her marriage with Ajay was just as good and strong and open."

Gillian was amazed.

"And you know what?" Cal continued. "That scares the shit of me because I don't know how to be like that."

"Yes you do," Gillian told him gently.

"No, the Cal you married knows how to be like that but _I _don't," and he was embarrassed to find tears in his eyes. "I don't want to lose you. In my entire life you were the best thing that happened to me. You made me see sense when I couldn't see the path in front of me anymore. You made me see the light when I was in my darkest moments."

Gillian started crying and Cal belated realised it looked like she had been crying before she had come in again. "You're everythin' to me," Cal's voice cracked. "I'm delighted we're married but it also scares me like nothin' else does. I don't want to lose you," the tears spilled from his eyes as he looked up at her, gripping her hand desperately, feeling so far removed from himself it was like he was in another body entirely. He didn't beg. He didn't plead. Only for Gillian. He would make the exception for her. Again. He could do that again. Right?

"Please, don't give up on me. I'm beggin' you. I'll see a shrink. I'll do whateva it takes. Please help me. Please don't give up. I don't know how to do this."


	31. Chapter 31

"You look like shit."

"Thanks very much," Cal replied dryly.

Gillian gave a slight shrug. It seemed like a monumental effort on her part and Cal surmised silently that she was still carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. He had been home for two days now and yet he figured she was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. It wasn't going to. The worst had passed them by, both shoes were on the ground, nothing else was going to happen to tear them apart. No one else was going to abduct him from in front of his own home and take him away for several days to fulfil some sick fantasy. It just wasn't going to happen again. Cal wasn't going to leave her side until the baby was safely born and they were home and a suitable amount of time had gone by and the kid was older and this whole incident had become but a vague memory, bad, but dulled by time. Several years ought to be enough to form new very happy memories. Especially after the baby was born. Then he might consider more than twelve hours away from them at a time. Or would that be smothering?

"Cal."

"Sorry?" He came to. Gillian had stripped off and was preparing to get in the shower.

"I said," she repeated patiently. "You don't have to keep an eye on me; I'm not going to fall over in the shower."

He realised she was teasing him and he gave a quick grin in return as she disappeared into the cubicle. He whipped off his shirt as quickly as he could, given the restrictions of his bandaged shoulder and bruised ribs, and pushed down his underwear. He pulled open the shower door with is right hand and the effort shot a prick of pain to his ribs that he ignored. Compared to the agony he was in just a few days ago, it was nothing. Certainly nothing he couldn't comfortably handle. Gillian glanced at him over her shoulder but didn't move to give him any water. He pushed his hips and abdomen against her gently to try and get some warmth. If she wasn't nine months pregnant he would have forced her much harder.

A small smile played over Gillian's lips and she resisted him gently. If he hadn't just had the snot beaten out of him, to borrow one of his own phrases, she would have pushed him back a lot harder.

"Why you bein' mean to me?" Cal asked her in a low voice.

"You're trying to steal my water."

"Thought you wouldn't mind sharin'," he just about pouted.

"Maybe I do mind," she finally looked over at him, her blue eyes faking frankness so easily, if Cal had seen it on anyone else he might have taken it seriously.

"Aw you missed showerin' with me," Cal spoke with the tone of voice he used on his nephew Max, or when he was talking to Gillian's stomach. She gave another little smile and Cal realised she was trying to suppress them, to not let him know how much she really did want him there right now. Why would she do that? He put his arm around her back and rested his head on her shoulder in a one armed hugged. His left was pressed between his chest and her shoulder, taped into place until the muscles and tendons strengthened around the bones of his scapula again and could hold it on their own. Cal pressed his lips against her warm skin. "Missed you luv."

He felt Gillian sigh. "I hate seeing you beat up."

"Mmm I'm sorry," Cal murmured. "Won't do it again."

"I hope not," she shifted her arm to wrap around his waist, her other hand rested on his shoulder and pulled him closer against her skin as much as possible around the baby bump and his injuries. The water poured over them as they stood silently for a moment. It was the mundane things Gillian had missed the most, even in those few days. Their evening ritual of going to bed. Showering in the morning while he shaved or in the evening while he brushed his teeth. She missed him staring at her while she was naked, particularly when he thought she didn't notice. "You know I don't do well without you."

"I know luv," he told her gently. "I know." Cal kissed the top of her head. "But it's ok. I'm here now."

**PJ**

Cal rocked his ankles back and forth as he waited. After half a minute the action had tired his leg muscles so he switched to a nervous fidget of his wedding band. It was loose on his thin finger and twisted easily. He checked the clock on the wall. Gillian should have been here by now. After their fight yesterday and the subsequent two hour discussion afterwards about actually talking to each other and opening up and doing whatever it took, whatever the other needed, relying on each other and then mutually agreeing that that was probably what was best for their relationship, however tentative it was right now, Cal thought things were going to be all right. At least on some level they were going to be all right. Maybe. He hoped so anyway. He wasn't sure about anything at the moment.

They had talked about the issue of Cal not remembering things. Gillian admitted it cut her deeply and Cal admitted that he could see that. But he wasn't doing it on purpose and Gillian conceded that she knew that too. Which brought them to an impasse. Gillian held the information and Cal wanted it. "So where do we go from here?" He had asked her.

Gillian had taken a deep breath. "I guess it's not right of me to keep information from you. That's not what we're about."

"Right," Cal had agreed. That's what he had been told anyway. "I'm afraid of what you're gonna tell me," he blurted finding courage in the fact that they were actually _talking_.

"Why?" Gillian had asked gently, her eyes falling into concern.

"I'm afraid there are things that I'm gonna be ashamed of. Or things I can't live up to now and you'll expect me to."

"And I'm afraid that I've changed so much you won't recognise me anymore," Gillian admitted.

Cal was surprised. "Have you changed much?"

"You seem to think so."

Cal had frowned, wondering what she was talking about. Gillian gently reminded him of his 'you're harder' comment and he explained what he meant; that she seemed saddened and he hoped it wasn't because she carried around some hurt he had forgotten about. They weren't in the middle of a fight when he had been hurt were they? She wasn't there out of sheer obligation? Gillian had managed a slight laugh but it didn't do much to relieve the tension. "No. I _am_ sad about some things in the last few years but mostly, Cal, I'm sad that you were hurt and that you've forgotten me."

Cal reached for her hand. "But I haven't forgotten you. I rememba you. I just don't rememba marryin' you."

Which perhaps was not so much a consolation as he had meant it to be. What he meant was, he hadn't woken up and wiped her from his mind entirely. He suggested maybe sub-consciously, he had been hoping to start over. Gillian only responded to that with a thoughtful expression. Cal begged her, "Please tell me. I know you think you're gonna ovaload me but... I need to know. You need to tell me so _I_ know, and I need _you_ to tell me so I know. It's important."

And Gillian conceded that perhaps that was true. He needed to hear it from her and she needed him to have the information so why stay so tight lipped? She made him a compromise. She would start telling him details, she would answer his questions, but she was going to leave out the particularly traumatic stories until later, until he was home, until he was better and secretly, she hoped, he might remember of his own accord and she wouldn't have to have those painful conversations. Those sure-to-be-painful conversations she didn't want to burden him with nor did she want to have to re-live those occasions she was not proud of. Because 'events' happened to Cal that put pressure on their relationship but it was she who had walked out on him and she was also the one that had pushed them to adopt, when Cal didn't want to, and she wasn't entirely convinced Lily's death was not a punishment for that in some way.

Gillian strolled through Cal's door and he brightened up immediately, pulled from thoughts and calculations that made his head hurt. "Hi," she gave him a smile, a little unsure as to his suddenly sunny disposition. Especially after yesterday.

"Great news," Cal started.

"Oh?" Gillian asked, slinging her purse on to the end of the bed by his feet.

"I'm allowed to have a showa."

"Great!" She enthused.

"Yeah," Cal agreed with a grin. "Gone are the days of sponge baths."

"That's really great," Gillian told him, her smile flashing in her eyes and a light fluttering fluffiness warming her chest.

"But I need a supavise-a."

"But that's still progress," Gillian immediately pointed out optimistically.  
>"It is," Cal agreed quickly. "So what do you think?"<p>

Her eyebrows raised rapidly. "You want me to do it?"

"If you don't mind? I mean, you don't have to get in with me. Just sort of, make sure I don't fall ova or somethin'. There'll be a chair in there." Cal paused while she clearly thought about it. "I'm just a bit ova stranga's seein' me naked."

Slight colour rose to Gillian's cheeks. "Ok. Sure."

"And I figa you've already seen me naked. Seein' as we have a kid and all," Cal teased lightly.

"We had Lewis by IVF remember?" Gillian shot back.

"Right," Cal was reminded. Clearly his screwy memory didn't just extend to the last eight years, but the last two weeks as well. But they did... sleep together right? He wasn't wrong about that bit right?

"But certainly, if you want my help I'll willingly give it."

"Great," Cal was relieved.

**PJ**

"_I'm singin' in the rain! Singin' in the rain!_"

Gillian smiled to herself as she picked up Cal's discarded pyjamas. She folded them neatly while he carried on. The shower was a wheel-in, for those patients who weren't entirely bed ridden but weren't entirely mobile. As it was, Cal had leaned on her heavily as they made their way across the room to his private bathroom. There was a chair in there and the shower head was detachable, but as far as Gillian could tell Cal was still standing. As far as she could tell that was, she wasn't looking.

"_What a glorious feelin', I'm happy again!_"

Gillian unfolded a towel and placed it back on the rack again so Cal wouldn't have to take those few seconds doing it himself, standing there getting cold.

"Gill!?"

"Yes!?" She called back.

"Just checkin' you're still there luv." He sounded so excited, happy, thrilled to even do something as basic as have a shower. Yes he wanted to come home. He was tired of being in the hospital. He wanted out and he wanted to be with his family and he wanted to get on with his life and explore what he had missed out on. And now that he and Gillian had talked, it didn't seem like such a scary event he wanted to avoid. He could talk to a shrink. How bad could that be? "What are you doin'?"

"Folding your clothes."

"Goin' through my undawear," Cal corrected.

Gillian chuckled to herself. Apparently having a yelling match had been good for them. Or more likely, it had been good for her. Casey would be the first to tell her that she had been keeping far too much inside. Not to mention the fact that if she was going to clue Cal into how their relationship worked she was going to have to get him used to the fact that sometimes she would completely dump on him and he wouldn't hold it against her. She needed that.

"You could always join me," his voice floated over the rushing water. "Just sayin'."

"Next time," Gillian retorted. "I've already showered today."

"Right fair point. Of course," Cal added. "We're not payin' for this hot wart-a."

"Well," Gillian countered. "Technically we are."

There was a pause. "So that's why you want me home. Cos this is costin' a fortune."

"Don't be ridiculous. Medical insurance covers everything."

"Phoar!" Cal exclaimed. "This shampoo is horrid."

"Well if you had given me more warning I could have brought yours from home." Because up until this moment, Cal's hair had been cleaned by a powder/comb system or, if he was particularly lucky, a lady came around to wash it while he was still in bed.

"Well how am I meant to call you? I can't find my cell phone amongst my things."

Which was because Gillian had it. She guiltily picked a fingernail as she leaned against the sink. "There _is_ a phone next to your bed," she pointed out lightly.

"Yeah but I don't rememba what your numba is."

"Oh," Gillian responded abruptly. That was a very fair point. "I'll write it down for you. Just in case. And tomorrow or this afternoon I'll bring your phone in." And now the question became: should she go through it and screen the messages? Maybe she shouldn't. She had not text him anything she didn't mean. But what if he used it to start contacting people on his list? Would he even know who half of them were? Not even Gillian knew who half of them were. And what did she care if he did? It wasn't like they knew the intimate details of her marriage to Cal. They weren't going to tell him something she was trying to hide. She wasn't trying to hide...

"Gill?"

"Yes Cal I'm still here."

"No, I mean, yeah, but... I need you."

Gillian straightened up immediately. "Are you ok?"

"I just got really tired all of a sudden."

Gillian gripped the edge of the shower curtain. "Shall I get an orderly?"

"No. I don't want to get out, I really want to finish."

Gillian heard the desperate edge to his voice. If she didn't study voices for a living she would have missed it over the worry of her heart and the pounding crash of the shower water. Her hand turned white against the peach of the shower curtain but she waited. She didn't storm in. She waited. "What do you want me to do?"

Cal was silent for a moment and she fought the urge to whip back the curtain and take over. She didn't want to find him on the shower floor. "Wash my hair?" He requested meekly.

"Is it ok to come in?"

"You're gonna have a hard time washin' it from out there."

Gillian kicked off her shoes and pulled the curtain back. There was sufficient distance between the edge of the water spray and herself so that she didn't get wet. Cal had perched himself on the seat by the wall. He looked dejected and a little pale. He was pushing himself too hard but she refrained from saying anything. Firstly, she would be mothering him and he hated that. And secondly, she was the one pushing him to come home all the time. Maybe she also needed to realise he still had limitations. Just because he woke up and was in rehab didn't mean a miracle had been worked. It was going to take time.

"I just want to be able to feel clean." And normal, he added in his head, but they both heard it loud and clear.

"Ok," Gillian agreed. She reached up for the detachable shower nozzle and kept it pointed at Cal while she brought it down from its lofty height and moved towards Cal. "Promise me you are not going to suddenly initiate a wet t-shirt competition."

He gave her a ghost of a grin. "Promise." She gave him the shower head and he drifted it over his body to keep warm while she reached for the shampoo. His hair was already wet so she lathered a small amount through his strands. He was right, it kind of smelt like lemon and disinfectant. It was like washing his hair with an entire hospital. She was surprised to find his hair had thinned out. Cal might have been more surprised.

"How are you doing?" She asked gently.

"Fine," Cal responded. "Weak." She heard him wince. "How does that happen? I had breakfast and I felt fine and then all of a sudden I'm dizzy."

"Are you still dizzy?" She pulled back to see his face, concerned.

"I feel betta now I'm sittin'," he looked up at her sincerely. And he looked so small and vulnerable. She might initiate a wet t-shirt just to give him a hug.

Gillian moved away and indicated he should rinse his hair out. Cal closed his eyes and dipped his head to meet the water. Gillian used her left hand to direct the water more deliberately and used her right hand to help rinse out the strands. She repeated the shampoo. She was going to talk to Doctor Rockwell about this. Surely Cal was supposed to be getting better, not worse?

Cal was silent while she reached for the conditioner. She watched as his eyes fluttered closed while she massaged his skull, taking extreme care to avoid the scar on his head. She had seen it in real time, she didn't need to know what it now felt like under her finger tips. "That feels really nice," he sighed. Gillian smiled to herself pleased. "Thanks Gill."

"Of course," she responded.

They were silent for a moment longer.

"Gill?"

"Yeah?"

"What do these tattoos mean?"

Gillian's fingers tightened inadvertently on his skull and he looked up at her suddenly surprised. She composed herself quickly before he could say anything. He had his arm extended towards her. "Well that one means 'hope' and that one means 'fate'."

"Huh," Cal responded thoughtfully.

Gillian prepared herself for the 'why' but it never came. He was silent for a moment while she rinsed her hands under the water he held pointing towards his chest. It was the first time Gillian had seen him naked in quite a while and she noted with observational interest, and perhaps a little shock, at how thin he seemed, even hunched over on his seat.

"And this one?" He pointed to his chest.

"That is a pinky promise," Gillian answered as if she were revealing a delightful little secret to Lewis.

Cal gave her a slight smile. "A pinky promise?"

Gillian nodded. Cal looked thoughtful again, and again she prepared herself to answer the 'why' that was hanging in the air. But he didn't and after a while his focus glossed over as he clearly connected with a memory or a thought. Gillian waited patiently, hoping he was going to suddenly look up and go 'hey we talked about that on our honeymoon remember?' but he didn't do that either. He did look up and he did give a slight smile but what he said was, "My mutha used to pinky promise me."

Gillian nodded. "Yeah," she almost whispered, fighting back disappointment.

"Guess I told you that."

Gillian nodded. She reached for his head, indicating she was going to rinse out the conditioner now. They were silent for a moment as she worked.

"Gill?"

"Yes Cal."

"Tell me about our first date," he requested.

"What do you want to know?" Gillian asked as she gently ran her fingers over his scalp.

"Did I pick you up?"


	32. Chapter 32

Cal pulled up in front of the apartment block and killed the engine of his car by twisting the key. He sat for a moment, looking over at her place. The lights were on and welcoming. His stomach shivered slightly and he told himself to calm down yet again. '_Get on with it_,' he added, noting the time on the dash. He was early by five minutes. By the time he got to the door it would be only three or four minutes. Perfect timing in his estimation. That would make him prompt, but not overly eager. Besides, didn't women famously take a long time to get ready and a date showing up right on the dot was annoying? Cal wasn't sure; he hadn't dated in a very long time. Not since he had dated Zoe. And that was how many years ago now? At least sixteen. Cal remote locked the door of his car as he walked away and along the path leading to Gillian's door. He steeled himself on the step for a moment before he raised a hand to knock.

"Oh harden up," he told himself as he hesitated again. It was just a date. They had been to dinner many times before. He didn't often pick her up, not in an official capacity like this, never in an official capacity like this but still, it was just dinner. '_No, it's a date and that's completely different_.'

Cal knocked. Half a minute later Gillian pulled the door open. "Hi," she gave him a pleased smile. "You look nice."

Cal's eyes quickly swept over her entire figure. Little black dress. Perfect. He felt a tug in his gut. "You too," he offered lamely as he came inside. Good lord, were they really doing this?

Gillian closed the door behind him looking pleased. "I'm nearly ready, I'm just deciding on shoes."

"Shoes," Cal repeated dropping his gaze to her bare feet, the red painted toenails. Blood started to flow. '_Stop it_,' he told himself firmly. '_For God's sake stop it_!'

"Uh huh," Gillian turned to walk away. "Come and help me pick."

Cal dutifully traipsed after her, glad for the distraction until he realised they were headed for her bedroom and she was asking him to make a fashion decision. "I'm not very good with shoes," he tried to dissuade her.

Gillian turned to face him from her closet. She had two black shoes, one in each hand. She held them up. "Which ones?"

Cal stared at them blankly. They both had heels, they were the same colour. What was the difference? "I have no idea. Whateva ones are more comfortable."

"Cal, comfort does not factor into shoe decision making." She paused. "Unless you're going to take me dancing." Her eyebrow quirked suddenly as the idea took hold. "Are we going dancing?"

"There's a new club," Cal started but before he could even finish the tease he knew Gillian knew he was having her on.

"Oh come on," she coaxed. She took a step towards him. "Surely you like one better?" she gestured them at him, one at a time.

Cal looked again. That one had a strap around the ankle that linked across the top of the foot to the toe. And that one had a strap around the ankle with the toes covered. "Why can't you decide?"

"Because you showed up early and now you're subject to punishment."

Cal checked his watch. "Hardly early."

"Early nonetheless." She gestured the shoes at him again, this time, both together.

"Those ones," he pointed to the right.

"Hm," Gillian looked down to study his selection. "I like these ones too. Good choice."

Cal straightened up slightly.

"Don't get too cocky," she warned as she turned back to the closet to dump the reject and find the matching footwear. "I like the other ones as well."

Cal took the opportunity while her back was turned to look around her bedroom. Feminine but not too floral. There were photos on the tall boy of her parents and her brother and his family. There was a framed picture on the wall opposite the bed and Cal marvelled at the fact that this was what she woke up to everyday and he was being allowed to see it too. She was letting him in. It felt amazing.

Gillian turned to see Cal studying her bedroom. She watched him while she slipped her shoes on. She was excited about tonight; not just the prospect of dinner and dancing (if he hadn't been joking about that aspect of the evening just the whereabouts they would be dancing) but the thought of spending time with him that was not work related, not Emily related, not emergency related; dates had expectations. This was them going out to actually spend the evening with the other. On a date. What were they even going to talk about that was no work related, Emily related or emergency related. She was curious to see how he would behave. She was curious to see how she would react.

"Ready?" She asked him.

"Yeah," his eyes travelled over her figure again and her feet in those sexy shoes with the strap running over the top of her foot. Gillian hid her pleasure at his clear interest by reaching for her purse on the dresser. Cal helped her into a coat by the door, waited for her to lock it and walked too close to her down the path to his car. He got her door for her and she laughed lightly at the sheer gentlemanliness and un-Cal-ness of the gesture. "What?" Cal queried once he was also in the vehicle. "I'm tryin' to make a good impression."

"And you do that for all the women you date?" Gillian quirked an amused eyebrow at him.

"Nope," Cal responded. He started the engine and put the car into gear while Gillian wondered if she should be pleased he was stepping outside the bounds of normal or if she should be concerned he wasn't acting like himself.

**PJ**

Cal smelt amazing. But then Gillian had already known that because she occasionally, when he was standing too close or if they shared one of those delightful 'friendly' hugs he clearly enjoyed so much, was able detected his scent. This was so different though. He had taken her to a nice restaurant, not over the top, in which he really would have been acting completely outside of himself to the point of being uncomfortable, but certainly within the limitations their 'friendship' dinners had already dictated. The food was great and he picked a really nice wine, which wasn't too expensive but not too cheap either. The conclusion Gillian was coming to was that he was trying but maybe a little too hard.

But this. This was impressing her like no one else had and trying too hard or not, he was earning big brownie points. Big ones. She was certainly tempted to invite him in after their date was done with. Almost. She wasn't sure. It was moving too fast but if this wasn't fantastic foreplay... She tightened her arm around his neck as they swayed to the music.

"_Hold me closer tiny dancer_," Cal sung along softly, his voice practically a hoarse whisper that sent a little shiver through Gillian's internal organs. His hands escaped the bounds of polite. They were over her waist, her hips, up her back, along her arms, at one point on her stomach... it made her feel the need to squirm in a delicious quiver. And she nearly did, but stopped herself before she lost control completely. It was their first date after all. It might be going well but Cal still had a lot to prove.

There was a particular... bar? Not a restaurant (although they did serve food here)... establishment, Gillian settled on, tucked away in a corner of Maryland that had found a gimmick not too ostentatious. It played music ranging from the nineteen twenties to the nineteen seventies; but nothing loud or obnoxious, crooner music, love songs; it allowed for dancing. Proper dancing. Waltzing and the box-step and for those who were braver, tango and foxtrot. No one paid anyone else much attention; no one was watching or judging. They got up to dance when they wanted to and when they weren't they were at the bar talking, socialising, making friends. There was nothing about the place that oozed sex and yet seeing the men dressed up in suits and the women in intricately decorated dresses (some in actual ball gowns) spoke of a romanticism that certainly screamed at Gillian. She loved the idea of this and she loved that Cal had clearly researched their evening and found something she would enjoy. She was enjoying this far too much. She was far too aware of how closely Cal held her, how strong his arms felt around her back, how firm his fingers dared to be in exploration. She could feel his breath on her neck and the hardness of his thighs as they brushed against hers.

Cal hummed along to the tune of the next song as he turned them gently. He was in dark trousers, white shirt and sports coat, but, tieless as he was, compared to some, he was casually underdressed and sexy as hell. "Gillian," he murmured in her ear.

"Hmm?" She responded feeling entirely content there with him in the dimness. She smoothed her free hand over the back of his shoulder. The muscles there were delightfully firm.

"You look wondaful tonight."

She smiled and pulled back to see his face. "Thank you." And then she leaned forward to give him a sweet kiss. His hand was heavy on her waist and while he had done everything right to earn him so much more, she was too conscious of the other people around them. Even if they weren't looking. "Shall we go?"

"Have you had enough?" Cal queried with a raised eyebrow. His gaze never left her face (an impressive feat in a man who obsessed over faces) and Gillian flashed between feeling like she was the only person left in the world and aware that the room was crowded. She nodded her answer and he agreed. He took her hand and gently led her to the door. While she slipped her coat back on he paid up (they had gone there for dessert as well as the dancing) and when he was done she linked her arm through his as they headed out for his car.

The entire drive home Gillian debated about inviting him inside. It was not in her nature to put out on the first date but he had made the evening so special and inviting him in didn't necessarily mean she was suggesting they go to bed even though it could be implied. If she did, which way would he take it? Would he expect the coffee she would offer? Or demand something that was left unsaid? She had known him a long time, was this really a first date? They had even been exploring each other before making it official tonight. So... so... what should she do? Did she want him enough to let her guard down just yet? Would he understand if she kissed him goodnight on the doorstep and left it at that? Would she even be able to kiss him on the doorstep and that be it?

Cal pulled up on the street and killed the engine. Gillian undid her seat belt while Cal did the same and then suddenly there was a very tense air between them of: now what? "Thank you," Gillian started. "It was a great evening." She smiled and Cal afforded her what almost seemed like a shy grin. Was he thinking about it too? Of course he was, he was male.

"Lovely company," he responded. "Want me to walk you to the door or are you gonna mock me for that too?"

Gillian laughed. "Aw I'm sorry I didn't mean to mock." She leaned forward to give him a kiss and as soon as her lips connected with his she had an arm around him and they were shifting to get closer. There was no audience here. Cal's hand gripped her jaw tightly but his mouth remained tentative as he tasted her. Their kisses were soft and sweet but so full of emotion. Cal was patient with her, savouring the closeness, as if there were all the time in the world. Gillian knew then he was not pressuring her. She knew then that he wasn't expecting anything from her. This was enough. This was perfect. It was so different for Cal, Gillian knew, and so different from her last relationship that had been full of demands.

Cal pulled away from her slightly. "What?" He asked gently.

"Nothing," Gillian immediately answered. She leaned closer to him but he kept a consistent distance between them.

"You hesitated," he accused lightly. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't," Gillian was baffled. She hadn't had she?

"Yes you did," Cal insisted softly.

She hadn't. She was sure. She had been thinking about him, how well he kissed, how amazing he smelt, how perfect the evening had been, how she felt so differently about him than she had with Alec and oh god there it was! Alec. "It's nothing," she tried to dismiss the conversation and the thoughts from her head.

"Did I do somethin'?"

"No!" She answered adamantly, afraid of seeing hurt on his face.

"Then?" Cal prompted. His fingers curled around her ear and down the back of her neck.

"It's stupid," Gillian tried to kiss him again but Cal only moved away from her slightly.

"I'm listenin'," he told her gently.

"I don't want to tell you," she tried to be firm.

"So I did do somethin'?" Cal asked with wide eyes; he was mortified.

"No," Gillian immediately responded reassuringly. She gave his arm a squeeze. She smiled. Genuinely. "No, you're great."

"So it's not me?" Cal's eyes searched her face in the streetlight.

"You're not reading me are you?" Gillian asked suddenly with mild exasperation, knowing full well that he was. They had made it so far. Almost right to the end of the night.

"So it's you," Cal concluded despite her. "Somethin' that's goin' on with you."

"Cal," Gillian warned.

"Your marriage?" Cal guessed.

Gillian didn't verbally respond to his accuracy while she thought of the best way to shut him down quickly and effectively. But something in her expression clearly gave her doubts away.

"You're thinkin' about Alec," Cal's tone was neutral.

"That's not fair," Gillian told him pointedly.

"It's all right," Cal told her. "That you think about him. It's natural to do that."

"Am I not allowed to have anything private?" Gillian queried warily.

"Nah," Cal answered her quickly and then finished the thought she had interrupted. "I think we're rushin' this."

"What?" Gillian exclaimed alarmed.

"You need more time," Cal gave her a concerned expression.

"I don't need more time," Gillian insisted indignantly, least of all him dictating just how much time she needed. But she stopped herself from saying something rash.

"Yeah you do," Cal gave her an intense stare.

Gillian's features morphed into a protest. How could he say that after the evening they had just shared? Had she not made it clear to him that she had enjoyed it far more than she thought she… Oh god, what if he knew she was struggling with indecision? She hesitated under his gaze and finally then conceded. "I feel guilty. Like I'm cheating on him," she winced. It sounded just as bad coming out of her mouth as it had while trying to ignore it in her head.

Cal nodded.

She frowned. "Is that really stupid?" She asked sincerely. "We've been apart for six months and we're practically divorced and yet I'm here with you and I can't help but feel like I'm betraying him in some way."

Cal watched her impassively. It was too dark for her to read his face.

"I'm sorry," Gillian continued. "I shouldn't be talking to you about this."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to think that a part of me doesn't want to be here when I _really_ do."

"I know you do luv. And I'd ratha you tell me the truth than try to spare my feelin's on somethin'."

Gillian gave him a small smile and quoted his own motto to him. "Truth before happiness right?"

Cal gave a cynical smile in response. "Somethin' like that, yeah."

Gillian watched him for a moment. "Please know it's not personal against you."

"I know luv."

"I think I need time to adjust to this."

"You know where to find me when you're ready."

"I'm not saying I want to stop altogether," Gillian added in alarm.

"We just need to take it slow."

"Yes."


	33. Chapter 33

Dizziness was a common side effect of traumatic brain injuries. So were the headaches Cal sometimes complained of. But there was little Doctor Rockwell could do about them, aside from prescribing some mild pain killers. He was confident that over time they would dispel on their own and gave a timeline of up to six months. Cal blanched at that but the six month time frame was the intended goal for a lot of Cal's milestones at the moment. Adam also came to the meeting with Doctor Rockwell, Gillian and Cal, about what had happened in the shower. During their therapy sessions the physical therapist was on the lookout for these kinds of developments or inhibitions. Cal wanted to know what he could do to get rid of them again and the short answer was: nothing, they would go away in their own time as his body adjusted and he regained his natural range of movement; as his brain continued to heal and recover from the trauma. The best thing he could do right now, was stay focused and keep working like he had been (which seemed like a pittance of a response to Cal but conceded he was exactly an expert on the subject, and besides, Gillian's body language practically screamed at him to just accept what he was hearing and do what was recommended). Both Doctor Rockwell and Adam the physical therapist were happy with his progress and encouraged him to keep going. They were confident of his recovery.

At the start of his third week in the rehabilitation facility Cal was introduced to an occupational therapist, Holly. She would take him through the more mundane day to day tasks he might have trouble with when he got home. Things Gillian never thought Cal would struggle with and was completely disturbed to see he was. It wasn't necessarily things like opening a jar but being able to put numbers into a sequential order. It was recognising household items and their names. It was being able to tie shoe laces. Cal was ok with those things but struggled with the more complex activities like problem solving and reasoning. It was the strangest thing to see, he was usually so quick.

Gillian left in the afternoon to get Lewis from day care, conscious of the fact that she had been at the hospital for most of the day and was, once more, neglecting the Lightman Group. She checked in with phone calls and Ria and Eli kept her appraised as always, but there was something about the boss actually being in the building that tended to keep people motivated. And trouble from brewing. But with Cal suddenly unsure and unconfident, which worried the both of them, she felt her main priority was, once again, to be there for her husband.

On the way back to the hospital, she swung by the house to pick up his phone that she had forgotten that morning and the little bag of his shampoo, razor, shaving foam, soap, and another tube of toothpaste. Back at the rehab facility Cal was in the middle of doing a puzzle ont he portable table over the bed. "Ooohhh puzzle!" Lewis crooned as he came in, rushing towards the bed to crash into it, his arms up to buffer his movement.

"Wanna help me with it?" Cal asked him. He leaned down to pull Lewis to sit on the bed next to him but floundered with his weight. Lewis struggled to pull himself up too so Gillian approached to lift him.

"Ooh kitties!" Lewis breathed enthusiastically.

"Yeah kitties," Cal agreed in a mumble. "With their stupid fur all the same colour and fluffiness so I can't tell them apart."

"I come bearing gifts," Gillian changed the subject before Cal could get too frustrated and snap at either of them. Oh good, she had moved on to handling him now. Such a step up from basing her mood on his.

"Oh yeah?" Cal turned to her, suddenly far more interested in her return, and distraction, while Lewis sifted his way through the puzzle pieces laid out in front of where he kneeled next to his father's lap.

Gillian produced the plastic bag of toiletries. "Shampoo."

"Lovely. But you might have to wash my hair again for me."

"Any time," Gillian responded easily.

Cal gave a slight smile.

"And," she went through her purse. "Your phone." She handed it over and Cal took it suspiciously.

"A new phone." He seemed wary.

"Yeah."

There were no visible buttons. He ran his thumb over the screen and it came to life. This was going to take some time to figure out. He looked up at her, grateful anyway. "Thanks."

"Sure," she gave him a reassuring kind of smile. She put his charger on the bedside table. "If you need anything else just let me know. I'm happy to sneak in contraband in my bra."

Cal gave her a grin, his mood shifting. "How would you feel about sneakin' in a bottle of...?"

"I find refusal may offend," Gillian cut him off with a raised hand. She zipped her purse up again. "So be careful what you wish for."

"Mum?"

She turned to her son as she placed the bag at the end of the bed. "Yes Lewis?"

"I need toilet," he told her with a pained expression, raising his hand in a fist with his thumb poking out between his index and middle finger; he gave the hand a little shake back and forth.

"Ok," Gillian told him quickly. "Jump down and go through that door," she pointed.

Lewis stood on the bed (with a little help from Cal to keep steady) and jumped to the floor. He purposefully sprawled over the linoleum and gave a little grunt, like he had just ducked out of the way of an exploding grenade. Then he picked himself up and jogged to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

"Come here," Cal coaxed, his hand reaching out for Gillian's wrist.

She took a step towards him, immediately recognising that tone of voice but acting coy about it all the same. "What for?"

Cal pulled on her hand a little harder, so she was starting to lean down, and raised his chin to meet her lips. Her hand ran along his cheek (and the beard he still hadn't brought himself to shave off. He had a beard like this when Emily had been born and when he had been working for MI6 and it was some form of nostalgia and comfort. Mostly comfort he supposed. Those were moments in time he was sure of). She moved her lips against his and sighed into him. Cal's hand tightened on hers as he felt her tongue press into his mouth. His heart pounded. She hadn't kissed him like this before and it was fantastic. It made his heart pound in a very good way. She purposefully explored his mouth. A flash of red behind Cal's eyes. Wait a minute... He pulled away and Gillian gave him a sweet smile.

"You've kissed me like that before," he widened his eyes at her as he looked up to her face, stunned by his own realisation.

Gillian gave him a slight frown. Of course she had. But oh. She opened her mouth to question him as to 'when' and 'where' and 'how he knew' (because that was certainly the first bit of tongue she had slipped him since he had woken up) but he beat her to it. "At Christmas. That first time. I rememba."

**PJ**

Cal heard the sound of his office door and turned his chair to see just who it was that was coming in. It was Gillian, who still managed to excite his heart in that red dress just as much as she had the first time he had seen her in it earlier that evening. Across the room. She had been talking to someone else. A guy. A guy Cal didn't recognise and he felt the simultaneous sucker punch of desire and jealousy. He avoided her for a while after that. Until he could get himself under control again.

"What are you doing?" Gillian asked with a slight smile as she approached where he was sitting behind his desk.

"Admirin' the view," Cal quipped gesturing to the expansive window beside him.

"Have you only just noticed it?" Gillian teased as she came around his furniture. Cal chuckled slightly before she was close enough to notice he was amused with her teasing. "Everyone's leaving." She came to a standstill in front of his chair.

"Oh good," Cal leapt to his feet. "Now I can get out of here." The chair rolled back a few inches over the floor, propelled by his sudden momentum.

"You should come and say goodbye to people..." Gillian trailed off but Cal wasn't listening anyway. He was standing too close to her. Or she was to him. Either way, the light from outside was making her eyes glow in an ethereal way and that dress really did hug every damn curve of hers and Cal wanted nothing more than to run his hands along them, so he could replace his fantasies with facts. If he rocked forwards just a little then they were touching and he could feel her body warmth through his shirt. Gillian stared at him and he stared on back, challenging her, seeing the features of her face in new ways and imagining what they would feel like if he traced his lips over every inch.

And then Gillian leaned into those very few millimetres between them and Cal froze with shock and delight and an overwhelming of his senses. She kissed him! He didn't have time to react before she pulled away again. He was about to grin stupidly at her and go for more or at least question her but her gaze averted and she looked down at their knees. "Sorry," she murmured so very softly and Cal's confusion went from 'whoa!' to 'what the hell!?'

He closed the very short distance between them again, pressing his lips against hers, and gripping her arm to stop her from rejecting this. Except he was far less cautious than she was about it because he knew exactly what he wanted, he wanted her. He had been thinking of little else since that other night in his office with the bourbon and flower decorated plastic cups. And he wanted her to know all of that. Even though it scared him.

Cal was firm and purposeful and felt her kissing him back, tentatively at first but when he parted his mouth to feel more she responded willingly, hungrily. Her tongue traced lightly over his upper lip and he moaned without consciousness, reacting on the gut churning excitement her mouth was creating. And her tongue. And her scent. And her warmth. And shit, just, everything about her.

Cal turned her towards his desk so she couldn't go anywhere and leaned further against her so he could feel her body pressed fully against his. It was hard to detect her body warmth over his now, but he was aware of the softness of her chest and stomach. His hand shifted to her hip in the same moment her arms wrapped around the back of his shoulders in an embrace that made him feel complete. His hand skated up her arm to her shoulder, feeling its way around the back of her neck to her hair. God it was so soft! He'd always wanted to run his fingers through her strands and she was letting him do that now and this really meant something didn't it?

Gillian pulled away from him slightly, catching him off guard for a moment before he gathered himself and found his mask again. Her hands traced over his chest for a moment and surely she could feel how his heart raced? She straightened up, pushing him back lightly while they watched each other and Cal took a moment to memorise the way her lips felt against his so he could obsess over them at his leisure. Then he sensed she was uncomfortable under such an intense gaze and so he gave her a little more space and suggested evenly that they go home now.

"Uh huh," Gillian answered. There was no confusion about what he had said and he liked a lot that she knew what he meant without him having to explain it all. He didn't mean she should come home with him, he meant they should go to their separate homes. They continued to watch each other and Cal could only guess as to what was going through her head. She didn't seem disgusted that he had kissed her that way. If anything, she seemed stunned, or confused and he wasn't sure if he was happy about either of those ideas. She certainly didn't look pleased. He gave a dismissive nod and took a clear step away from her. Gillian pushed away from his desk and started to walk around it. Cal watched her go for a moment, her stride even and calm, back in control. Cal took a moment to compose himself so he could do the same.


	34. Chapter 34

"You remember that?" Gillian was stunned.

"It just came to me," Cal seemed just as surprised. "You wore a red dress. It was fantastic. The dress was," he added. Of course, the kissing was fantastic too but it didn't seem right to yammer on about that at the moment. Kind of not really important in the grand scheme of things.

Gillian stared at him wide eyed for a moment. "Really?" She breathed. She could feel her` heart pounding. Cal nodded. He seemed very pleased with himself. Gillian felt she should say something along the lines of him not getting his hopes up but she didn't have the heart. She didn't have the heart to dash her own hopes either. Gillian's fingers tightened in Cal's and she didn't know what to say. This didn't seem realistic. She would kick his ass if he was having her on. He looked up at her with wonderment in his eyes while she just felt stunned. She had resigned herself to operating off the basis that he would never remember a thing. And now... suddenly anything was possible again.

Gillian didn't know what to say into the silence and Cal continued to stare up at her, a silly grin on his face. His grip on her hand was tight. "That wasn't our first kiss," he told her confidently.  
>"No," Gillian agreed. "It wasn't." Wow he remembered that too?<p>

"What was our first kiss like?"

Her expression softened. "I've told you about it remember?"

Cal thought for a moment. "Oh yeah. I do rememba." His thumb brushed over the back of her hand. "But... when did we get married again?"

"May," Gillian responded easily.

"Right May. Spring. I rememba."

She gave him a slight smile, suspecting now that he was just showing off how much he _did_ recall and wasn't a complete write off.

"And what month is it now?"

"July."

"Summa," Cal looked to the window. He hadn't noticed the weather. Just that it was daylight out there. "Is it warm?"

"Yeah," Gillian agreed amicably. She had no idea why he was asking these questions or what he was trying to achieve but it almost seemed like he was reaching for something, like he was trying to connect the information together.

"And Lewis was born on?"

"June seventeenth."

"Right," Cal nodded.

Gillian could see his brain processing. She waited. He would find it less frustrating if he got to whatever conclusion he was trying to get to on his own.

"And I was in a coma for ova a month?"

"Yes."

"And I've been awake for two weeks."

"Yes," Gillian agreed again. Cal was silent for a moment so she gently pried her hand free. He gave her a surprised questioning expression but let her go, watching as she back-stepped across the room. "Lewis?" She cracked the bathroom door open.

"Go! Away!"

"What are you doing?"

"Poos!"

"Ok," Gillian closed the door again. Cal's questioning expression had gotten deeper. "Sometimes he just plays and it's better to keep an eye on that."

"I missed his birthday," Cal announced lightly.

Gillian took slow steps to the bed where he was sitting up. "Yes," she admitted. Was that it? What he was working out? She could have told him that.

"Was he gutted?" Because he might not recall the last four years with the boy but it was clear from other sources and the way Lewis behaved towards him, that father and son were close.

"Yeah," Gillian admitted. "It was tough."

"I should make it up to him," Cal decided.

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to. I mean or do somethin' nice for him. When I get outta here. This whole thing must have been really tough on him."

"It has been," Gillian agreed reluctantly.

"Is that why you've been psycho-analysin' our son?"

Gillian felt alarmed. "Wha?" She started. Cal gestured to the wall where Lewis's pictures were pinned up.

"Unless you were just workin' on a series entitled '_Daddy in Hospital'_."

She should have known he would work it out. Eventually.

"Although I'm glad to see in the latest." Meaning the ones Lewis had brought in just a few days ago. "That I'm not a shrivelled up figa in the background anymore," Cal added.

"I wanted to..."

"Check up on him?" Cal finished for her.

"Yes."

"And?" He prompted. "Aside from his Dad bein' magically shrunk from a large-a than life figa to a mere speck."

It was exaggeration. The speck bit anyway.

"He's found it tough," Gillian started.

"Skip to the details," Cal waved his hand absently.

"He started having accidents. He got unsettled."

"Behave-a problems?"

"No, he's a pretty good kid."

"He seems a great kid Gill," Cal told her sincerely.

Gillian actually managed a smile. "He takes after you."

"Not convinced of that," Cal retorted quickly. "He's like _you_."

Gillian gave a coy smile but Cal didn't have time to chase that up because something else occurred to him and he couldn't ignore insight when he was on such a role! "So that's why you went to check on him?"

"Yes," Gillian sighed. "Sometimes he doesn't get there in time."

Cal nodded. They were silent for a moment. "And what about you?"

"What about me?" Gillian asked him lightly.

"Have you been psycho-analysin' yourself?"

She gave him an unimpressed expression.

"I'm not mockin'. It was a serious question," he told her sincerely. "Who's been lookin' afta you all this time?"

"I've been... dealing... I have family to help out. They've been great, taking Lewis in the afternoons so I can get some work done. My Mom's been cooking a few meals, doing some cleaning here and there. Emily's been a huge support."

Cal gave her a gentle expression. "I meant, who's been makin' sure you don't fall apart?"

**PJ**

It was a good question and Gillian wasn't so sure anyone had made sure she hadn't fallen apart. Casey helped prop her up and Lewis's cuddles certainly had magical healing properties, but they were nothing like his father's and what Gillian had been fantasising about were the days those arms would wrap around her and she could just stop to feel their comfort. Then she knew she would be grounded again and would feel like everything would be ok once more. What she told him was that she had a friend who was a good listener and Cal seemed to accept that response because he didn't push the issue. Or maybe that was just because Lewis finally extricated himself from the bathroom and then Emily showed up with Ajay.

Gillian pushed on Lewis's bedroom door. The light from the doorway spilled gently over his peaceful sleeping face. She watched him for a moment and, satisfied that he was asleep and ok, closed the door again. She left the hall light on, just in case, as she went to bed herself. She was already in pyjamas, her teeth were brushed, she still hated to see the empty side of the bed that was Cal's. Gillian turned off the main light before pushing her door mostly closed, so that no light would shine through and disturb her, but that if Lewis needed to get in in the night he wouldn't struggle and get distressed.

Reaching the bed Gillian flipped back the covers and climbed in. Just as she was starting to settle her phone rang. She reached for it instantly, heart rate increasing; phone calls this late meant that something was wrong. Cal's number flashed up on the screen. "Cal?" She answered quickly, tensely.

"Hi darlin'."

"Are you ok?"

"Yes fine," he sounded amused.

"What are you ringing me for?"

"You said I could ring you if I needed somethin'."

"Oh," the tension in her chest suddenly dispelled as she listened to dead air for a second, like she had let out a huge breath. She hadn't. She was still holding it. There was no emergency, no cause for her to be concerned. She forced herself to let the air out.

"I needed to hear your voice."

"Oh," Gillian repeated but more softly this time.

"Hokey I know but... I didn't get a goodbye kiss," he pouted.

Gillian smiled. She got it now. He missed her. "Aw sorry about that."

"You don't like kissin' me in front of otha people?"

"No I don't mind."

"But I do?"

"No you're not exactly shy."

Cal laughed. "Course not. Then it must be merely because you forgot." He tsked her and she laughed as well.

"You're up late," she noted.

"Yeah, I nap durin' the day and so I'm awake at night."

"I see."

"You're up late," he noted. "Am I lucky to have caught you?"

"I just got into bed."

"Oh yeah?" He sounded interested. "Alone?"

"Of course alone," she reprimanded lightly.

"What are you wearin'?" He lowered his voice.

"Pyjamas."

"Not some sexy lingerie?"

"And who would I be wearing that for?" Gillian challenged lightly.

"Oh I dunno. Me. Yourself. Me _and_ yourself."

Gillian listened to the lowering of his tone and it actually made her shiver. She was hypersensitive at the moment.

"What's our sex life like?"

Gillian swallowed tightly. "Cal," she warned.

"I'm just askin' cos you know, you said you'd answa if I asked."

She shouldn't have been surprised right? Cal was a guy and guys thought about sex and Gillian supposed if she had woken up to find that they were married she would be curious about their sex life too. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about what he was like in bed before they had actually slept together. And he was her husband, they talked about sex on a regular basis normally. She gave a little sigh and snuggled under the covers, reaching out to kill the light. "Fantastic," she murmured.

"Oh really?" Cal's voice rose in inflection.

"Yeah," she sighed, scrunching her toes tightly.

"Well that's," Cal started, then was silent for a moment. "What's your favourite position?"

"Cal," Gillian half laughed, half complained. She wasn't sure she actually wanted to do this... "Should you really be using your phone in a hospital?"

"Oh come on!" Cal complained. "Don't change the subject. We were just gettin' to the good bit. Want me to call you back on the otha line?"

"It's just," Gillian started.

"Just what?" Cal quickly jumped.

"Did you ring me up just to talk about sex?"

"No, I rang to talk to you. And the convasation led us to sex. Do we not talk about sex normally?" His tone was gently, coaxing her, leading her along.

"No we do," Gillian conceded.

"Are you embarrassed?" He teased. "Cos we don't have to."

"No it's fine," Gillian decided. "We can talk about our sex life. I've got nothing to be ashamed of and neither do you."

"I always knew you'd be good in bed."

Gillian smiled to herself. "Funny, I always thought you would be good in bed."

"And do I live up to expectations?"

"More than live up to them."

"I always thought we'd be fantastic togetha."

Gillian gave an awkward sigh. Memories, images, sounds. Cal had none of that.

"Favourite position," he pressed gently.

"Against a wall."

"Oh really?" His voice rose in inflection again. "What's mine?"

"I'd say any way we do it where you can see my face is just fine by you."

Cal chuckled. "That's probably true luv."

Gillian focussed on the sound of his voice, trying to ignore her body reacting to the subject of conversation. "Least favourite?" He asked next.

"I don't like it when you're behind me."

"That's good to know."

"Are you taking notes?"

"No," Cal chuckled. "I'm listenin' attentively."

"Ok," Gillian acted as though she were letting the subject drop.

"So from behind," Cal brought the conversation back around eagerly. "Why's that? Am I less attentive?"

"No it's because I can't hold you. I can't put my arms around you."

"Hmm," Cal mused. "Which side of the bed do you sleep on?"

"The right."

"That's where I usually sleep."

"And for a long time that's where you did sleep. And then we swapped," Gillian turned over to lie on her side, swapping the phone to her other ear. If she closed her eyes and pretended enough, she could fantasise she was having this conversation in person.

"How come we swapped?"

"You let me sleep closer to the bathroom when I was pregnant."

"How gentlemanly."

"Very."

Cal was silent for a moment. Gillian closed her eyes and relaxed and then she found herself sleepy very quickly. She must be exhausted. Was Cal still talking? She wasn't sure if she was awake anymore.

"Gill?"

"Hm?" She responded, forcing herself to make a noise. She _was_ drifting off to sleep.

"Are you asleep luv?"

"Yeah I'm sorry. Can we talk tomorrow?"

"Sure can. Good night."

"K goodnight. I love you," Gillian murmured before hanging the phone up and slipping it under Cal's pillow. She was asleep again within a second.


	35. Chapter 35

_AN: M-ish rated chatper._

**PJ**

Gillian didn't even realise what she had said until she was having breakfast the next morning. It had been a slip of the tongue, an unconscious farewell. She had said it to him a million times. She had said it to him while he was comatose and with absolutely no way to react to her words but this was the first time she had said it to him since he had been awake, since they had both realised he had no recollection of them being married, in a relationship, or in love.

"I want that," Lewis pointed to Gillian's coffee mug. He used one hand to sign 'want': an open hand brought upwards, while the fingers curled into claws, facing the ceiling.

"That's for me," Gillian told him. She signed 'mine', by bringing her open hand against her chest, over her heart.

"Can I try?"

"You won't like it," she warned. The liquid was cool enough now for her to gesture for Lewis to help himself. Standing on his chair at the kitchen table, he reached eagerly for her drink. "Just a sip," she instructed. She signed 'little bit', which was bringing the thumb of her right hand against the index finger while the others were curled up under it, like a fist on its side. She repeated the movement.

Lewis used two hands to lift the cup to his mouth. He took a gulp and immediately screwed up his nose. He swallowed it quickly and then stuck out his tongue. "Yucky!" He used the sign for 'disgusted', rubbing his hand over his abdomen in a clockwise direction, his fingers forming claws, his face showing clear disgust.

"I did tell you," Gillian took the mug back from him.

"Ugh!" Lewis went on. "Do you like it?" 'Like' was starting with an open hand flat against his chest, then moving it away slightly and closing his middle finger against his thumb in an 'eight' hand.

"Yes," Gillian nodded.

"Must be for big people," Lewis responded. He signed a version of 'adult' which was also a variation for 'tall'. He raised his hand by his head, palm facing the floor, the fingers pressed together and curled over slightly, and shifted it up and way rapidly.

"It is," Gillian agreed. She finished her toast. "I'm going to drop you off at Aunty Kate's this morning ok?" She made the sign for 'car' and finger-spelled 'Kate'.

"No day care?" Lewis queried, his eyebrows raised.

"Later. Kate will take you."

"Oh," Lewis nodded.

"So go and get your shoes and then come and pack your bag."

'Go' was using both index fingers to point away from her. 'Get' was bringing both loose hands to fists in front of her body. She then turned those hands so they were facing out, palms down, still in the fist, and whacked them together twice for 'shoes'. 'Come' was the reverse of the 'go' sign, her fingers starting away, then shifting to point at herself. 'Pack' was pressing her thumbs to the underside of her pressed together and extended fingers and moving them in circles in front of her, sideways, unsychronised. 'Bag' was pretending she was gripping a handle and pumping her hand towards and away from the floor in two short gestures.

"Ok," Lewis agreed, jumping down from his chair and rushing from the room.

Gillian got up. Now that her distraction was gone her stomach quivered as she thought about Cal's reaction to what she had said last night. Would he be shocked? Repulsed? Trapped? Or, tentatively, thrilled. Because, by his timeline, they had only really been 'getting to know each other' for the last few weeks. If she had been dating a guy and he told her he loved her within that time frame she would be put off. So would Cal accept and compare the comment against her time line? Instead of his?

Kate looked like she was barely out of bed when Lewis pressed their doorbell. Gillian wondered if Lewis could hear the chime of it on the other side or whether he just enjoyed being able to stick his finger against the button and give it a shove. Six year old Rachel answered followed behind by her mother. "Hi Aunt Gillian!"

"Good morning," Gillian greeted her putting Lewis back down on the ground.

"Bye!" He shot at her as he ran inside to find his other cousins.

"Can you take that for me?" Gillian asked her niece.

"Morning," Kate finally reached the door as her daughter turned away to take Lewis's bag to the kitchen. "Geeze it's early. Why are you up so early?"

"Because I have a four year old," Gillian responded.

"Oh those days," Kate commented drolly. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah fine," Gillian answered. She had woken up before Lewis that morning, her comment to Cal on the phone last night must have finally sifted its way through her sub-conscious and she had woken up anxiously, even if she hadn't figured out what was bothering her yet.

"Cos you seem," Kate tried again.

"I just need to get up to see Cal that's all," Gillian told her with a reassuring smile.

"Is everything ok?"

"Yeah fine. I just need to talk to him."

"Ok."

"Thank you for taking Lewis."

"Not a problem."

Gillian turned away from the door and got back in her car. She immediately turned off Lewis's music and headed across the state-lines back to the hospital. In the silence she thought about how she was going to play that morning and came to absolutely no conclusion. Should she apologise? For something that was true. Or tell him she didn't mean it? Which would be a lie. Or own it as heartfelt? And let him work through the emotional fall out on his own.

The rehabilitation facility seemed quiet at this time in the morning. The point of getting there early was to make sure Cal couldn't be taken away to physical therapy or have Holly arrive for his occupational therapy before Gillian could get to him. She was operating under the assumption that he had heard her. There was a chance he had hung up before she had uttered the words.

Cal's door was closed when Gillian approached it. She tapped on it lightly and opened it a crack, wondering if he was even awake yet. "Come in," he called so she pushed into the room. "Hi," he gave her a smile. The curtains were still closed but he was sitting up and a light was on over the bed. He had a book open in one hand. "Wow you're here early," he made a show of checking his watch and then seemed surprised. He wasn't wearing one. "My watch," he noted softly.

Had been completely destroyed by the fall.

"Do I normally wear one?" He looked over to her as she arrived at the bed. "I feel like I should have one."

"It was broken," Gillian explained.

"Oh." Cal looked around her to the clock on the wall. "You're here early," he tried again. He gave her a bright smile.

"Yeah," Gillian was aware of the time.

"I'm not complainin'," Cal added as he reached out his hand to her and Gillian absently took it, letting his fingers wrap around hers. He immediately seemed satisfied. "What's up?"

"Does something have to be up for me to come and see you?" Gillian answered like she was teasing him. She was trying to read him, trying to deduce if he had heard her last night. She was aware she was making this into a bigger deal than it should have been. But what if he wasn't ready to hear it? Wasn't that precisely why she had not told him she loved him up until now?

"Well no, course not luv, but you know, it's really early. Where's Lewis?"

"I dropped him off at Kate's," Gillian shifted on her feet. Despite the fact that Cal tended to process things slower and it took him longer to work things out than usual, (like his watch was missing or Lewis's art on the wall, things it would take him a minute to figure out normally) he wasn't completely lost. He knew something was not quite right. She should have known better. Perhaps this was a lesson in ceasing to underestimate him. Maybe she should trust him more. Maybe she should open up to him more. That was how they had started their journey in the first place.

"You all right?" Cal asked gently.

"Last night on the phone," Gillian started.

Cal gave her a sudden grin. "Yeah?"

Gillian wondered what the grin was in reference to; talking about their sex life or the 'I love you'. '_Stop it_,' she told herself. '_Stop doubting him and doubting yourself. You're stronger than this. You can deal with any kind of fall out. It's three words, not a big deal_.' She steeled herself. "Did you hear what I said before I hung up?"

Cal watched her face. She seemed nervous and he could rationalise to himself why but it seemed silly. She told him she loved him. That was cause for celebration, not commiseration. "Yeah I did," he told her bluntly.

"Oh," she shifted her weight again.

Cal's stomach was on edge the moment she walked through the door. She looked fantastic, for one thing, and yes he had heard her last night. He had been thinking about what she said for a while. She loved him. "That was lovely," he told her. Where their hands touched he felt tingly and warmer than normal and squirmy. "I love you too."

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise and then her expression softened. Her hand tightened on his and she searched him for sincerity. Cal let her see everything. All those years of pent up attraction and soul satisfying friendship logically compounded into love, before she had even got divorced. "I've loved you for a very long time," he added. And all of this, since he had woken up, the wedding rings and the kid, the hand holding, the kissing, the talking about a fantastical relationship he was yet to actually enjoy... it made him feel it so much more acutely. This was his dreams coming true, right in front of him. "Before you and Alec..."

"Cal!" Gillian reprimanded him lightly, shocked. "Don't say that."

"Well it's true."

"But," she hesitated. "I'm not sure I wanted to know that."

"Why not?" He asked sharply. Maybe he had got it wrong.

"Because. I never..." She paused. Cal indicated she should go on with a slight indication of his head. "I never encouraged you."

"No you didn't," Cal confirmed. "But I couldn't help it. I did try to stop but... you're... well, _you_."

She actually blushed a little.

"You're you Gill and I love you and I've woken up to find my dreams are actually reality and I'm with you and it's amazin'," he told her sincerely, his voice soft, his gaze intent, his thumb caressing over the back of her hand.

Gillian's mouth parted slightly as her breath became shallow. "You really feel that way?"

"Yes," Cal nodded. "I really do."

She leaned forward then to kiss him in the intimate light of his bed lamp and it almost felt like a relief. The building tension Cal felt melted away under the soft pressure of her lips against his. He brought a hand to her soft skin. He caressed her cheek then threaded his fingers through her hair, holding her in place so he could kiss her properly. He didn't like that every moment of physical contact was dictated by her approaching him. He wanted to be able to walk over there and kiss her if he wanted to. And he wanted to be able to do that a lot. Cal pressed his tongue against her mouth. She let him in and gave a little moan and then abruptly pulled away from him. "I'm sorry," Cal was surprised. He was more alarmed as she headed for the door. "Gill," he tried to stop her. "Don't go." What had he done? Did he bite her? Had he pushed her too far?

And then to shock him even more she simply flicked the lock and rapidly re-approached the bed. She looked determined and Cal just felt stunned. He didn't really know what to do next. She climbed up on the bed quickly and was back to kissing him a second later, her hands, firstly dumping his book on the floor (she did aim to place it on the bedside table but missed) then feeling under his shirt, scraping across his nipples. "Oh God!" He moaned in the back of his throat. His hands came to her shoulders, pulling her closer as she shocked pleasure straight to his groin. And then her hands were there too, digging beneath the covers over his lap, pushing past pyjama trousers and his underwear.

She moaned again, hungrily, her mouth desperate on his as she shifted and positioned so she was straddling over his thighs. Her tongue and mouth knew exactly how to tease him and he was torn between taking control and waiting to see what would happen next. How well did she really know him? It could be interesting. A tiny part of him thought to push her away. They couldn't do this here. Could they?

His body certainly seemed to think so and within minutes she was sliding down on to him, still fully clothed and he broke away from her mouth to curse at the sensation. This was kind of wrong but so fucking exciting too. Gillian's mouth dropped to his ear and he could hear her panting for air and something else. She was whispering his name. "Cal," she moaned and he was aware of her fingertips digging into his shoulders.

Cal's hands found her hips as he waited for her to adjust and to move. He wasn't really in a position to force her. He could barely carry his own body weight at this point, let alone force hers to move. It wasn't that she was particularly heavy, far from it (in fact, she seemed thinner than he remembered her being); it was just that he was weak. So weak. Too weak to even tell her no. How could he? He wanted this; he had fantasised about this. He needed this. And apparently she needed it too. Cal's hands found their way to her skin. It was hot and his explorative touch seemed to prompt her. She shifted her hips back and gently slid down against him again. She did it again and she started murmuring again: "I miss you Cal. Cal I miss you."

He groaned as the friction built and his body temperature soared. The skin on Gillian's abdomen became slick with a light sheen of sweat as she worked. He held on tighter, feeling how firm her muscles were. She must work out, he realised. She must. He brought his hands to the buttons of her shirt and quickly undid them with shaking hands. '_Not now_,' he told them annoyed. He didn't need to have a breakdown of basic body function right now. Her bra was pink and black lace and he didn't know what about that was so exciting but it was! Or maybe it was just that he was seeing her in her underwear for the first time. Or he was seeing her breasts for the first time. And wait! He could also feel her legs if he wanted to. He shifted his hands to her thighs and smoothed his fingers up the back of her muscles. She shivered and moved to wrap her arms around his neck. She gave a little moan so Cal did it again, feeling her skin and her reaction.

Gillian's mouth came back to connect with his as he moved his hands to cup her ass. He closed his eyes and squeezed her flesh and she bit his lip in return. Her fingers caressed the back of his neck and her tongue swept over his and all of a sudden his eyes flew open in shock as the height of his pleasure washed over him. "No!" he blurted as his body shuddered against hers.

"No," Gillian agreed in an urgent whisper. She ground down on him, rubbing against his pubic bone desperately but it was already over and he was already coming down from the short lived high.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, watching the disappointment on her face.

Gillian gave a slight smile of reassurance. She pulled him closer to meet her and hugged him around the neck. "It's ok," she whispered but he could feel the way her thighs squeezed against his and the tension she still held in her arms. It wasn't ok but she was trying to tell him she wasn't... angry with him. "I shouldn't have pushed you," she murmured after a lengthy silence.

Cal gulped for air, guilt and shame washing over him. He couldn't bring himself to hug her back. "That's neva happened to me before," he muttered. He was bordering on disgust. "Has it?" He pulled her back to see her face.

"No," she admitted. "At least not with me." She shifted to climb off him again.

"I'm sorry Gill. I didn't want our first time to end like _that_," he told her frantically. She turned to him with a sharp expression as she started re-buttoning her shirt. "Not our first time," he answered himself with a groan. He threw himself back against the raised end of the bed. Fuck! When was he ever going to get this right! "Sorry."

"Stop apologising," Gillian told him gently. "It's not your fault."

"But," Cal started. She was kind of right and yet he still felt responsible. He felt like he owed her more. "Want me to," he gestured with his hand.

"No," she gave a slightly amused and very brief smile. "It's fine." Finished with her shirt she went to her purse. "I'm going to," she indicated the bathroom. "Freshen up."

"Right," Cal responded dully. She produced a wash cloth in a small ziplock bag. She gave it to him. "Did you come prepared?" He looked up at her shocked.

"With a four year old you tend to be prepared," she retorted. "I have hand wipes in there too but they might not be sensitive enough," she added.

"Right," Cal took the offered item. Gillian went to the bathroom and Cal cleaned up where he was in bed. He put the cloth back in the bag and threw the lot in to the bin opposite his bed. It was a perfect shot but he felt no joy in it. He heard the click of a lock and looked up to find Gillian opening his door and pegging it back with the wedge.

"Hey," she told him approaching again. "A shag in the morning is supposed to make you feel good."

Cal gave a ghost of a smile. Why did that phrase seem so familiar? She leaned down to give him a sweet kiss but it felt a little bitter now; he could still see the blush at her collarbone. She caressed his bearded cheek. "Hey," she spoke gently and it made his eyes connect with hers. "It's clearly going to take some time, that's all."

"I didn't want to let you down," he blurted.

"You didn't," she kissed him again and then moved away to pull his curtains back. It was another brilliantly sunny day and Cal longed to be able to go outside and actually enjoy the sunshine. He really got tired of the same four walls day in and day out.

"Surely Holly will let you do therapy outside today," she turned to him and raised an eyebrow slightly. "What do you think?"


	36. Chapter 36

Gillian could read Cal's mind. He was startled to discover that and then created instances in which he could prove it. If he stopped sentences mid way she could finish them and correctly too. Sometimes she would just give a little nod or utter an 'I know' and he knew she knew exactly what he was talking about. It was amazing, impressive, but also scary. He wondered if he was able to hide anything from her. She didn't seem to push him about something he didn't want to talk about. Like the other morning. He was embarrassed and disappointed with himself and despite her telling him it didn't matter or that she shouldn't have pushed him when he was still not quite 'there' (meaning well or a hundred percent) he still felt responsible for a monumental failure. It ate at him.

She said it wasn't a big deal. But it was. It was, if not Cal's first memory of them being 'together', then at least their first time 'together' in a while. Since the accident. Funky memory or not, even if Cal remembered everything, it would still be devastating to him. And it wasn't like Gillian didn't know, it wasn't like she didn't realise, it was more that she just seemed to so easily put it behind her. She had moved on already. Cal was dwelling a little. All right, a big bit.

Adam sensed Cal's despondent attitude and pushed him harder, then relented and gave him the afternoon off. Holly let him go outside to sit in the sun, though she refused to let him walk there himself even though he could. He could walk the bars now without needing the support and he was lifting weights at a whole new level. He wanted out. His rehabilitation wouldn't be over, not by a long shot, but as soon as he was trusted to walk around the house on his own without falling he was allowed to go home. He managed it as far as the bathroom in his room without completely losing it. He could wash his own hair now and he had managed a shave without slitting his throat (although he found scars hidden underneath it that looked surgical and he wrote it down in his note book under the list of things he was going to ask Gillian about one day). He _was_ making progress even it felt monumentally slow at times.

Now all he had to do was work on him and Gillian. Which he had no idea how to fix. She was slightly distant with him. She still came to see him just not quite as much. She left a little earlier in the mornings and arrived a little later in the afternoons. She used work and Lewis as an excuse and while they were quite plausible, they felt like excuses nonetheless. Cal wanted things to go back to how they were before she jumped him and maybe under that duress he could blame her. But he didn't want to. He felt just as confused now as when he had first woken up. All right maybe not that confused but still...

Gillian arrived late in the afternoon. She seemed slightly flustered and explained it had been a busy day at work. Apparently there were tensions between one of their newbies, Paul, and Eli and she was working her way to the bottom of it before they had a fist fight. Cal only half listened to her. He had exciting news.

"What is it?" Gillian asked good-naturedly, clearly not bothered he had railroaded over her topic of conversation.

"They're going to let me go home."

"Oh?" Gillian raised her eyebrows surprised. "Really? That's great news."

"Yeah," Cal grinned at her, pleased. Despite everything, when he saw her, he just wanted to smile silly.

"When?"

"Not sure about the date yet. Suppose when they get their pape-a work done."

"Sure," Gillian nodded. She had an overwhelming urge to cry. She could feel her shoulders tense up with the effort of trying not to get too excited.

"But there are two provisions."

"Oh?" Gillian repeated, though this time a little less enthusiastically.

"I have to have somewhere to go."

Gillian nodded. After a moment she realised Cal was waiting for her to say something else. To offer. "Of course you can come home."

"Well I didn't want to assume."

"It's your home too Cal," she told him with feeling. "You're more than welcome there. You don't have to ask."

"All right great," he gave her a grin.

Gillian wasn't quite ready for smiling yet. "What's the other provision?" She asked suspiciously.

"I have to see a shrink. If not someone from here than someone else that I have to find before I leave," Cal responded in an unimpressed tone. That was as far as he let his distaste go though, considering last time this had been brought up it had resulted in a yelling match. He sighed. "I suppose that's somethin' though. Before they were insisitin' I talk to someone on their pay roll."

Gillian studied something on the floor.

"What did you do?" Cal asked her gently, his spidey senses alerting him to the fact that she was hiding something, and doing a very poor job of it.

She looked up to meet his eye. "I may have told them you already had a psychiatrist you saw on a semi-permanent quasi-regular basis."

Cal gave her a bizarre expression. "What the hell does that mean?"

Gillian braced herself and explained. "You've been to see a shrink before."

Cal watched her impassively. He had already been prepared for that information from that argument, but he hadn't given much thought to it, having been far more worried about the actual argument than the small details. Which was unlike him. But now that it was back he wasn't going to let it go again. "When?"

"Several years ago."

"Why?"

"You were, well I thought you were and I think you went to disprove me or something."

"Could I get full sentences please?" Cal requested firmly. "I'm not clear on what you're talkin' about at all."

"Several years ago," Gillian stopped to think about what she was going to say next and realised the story didn't start with Mitchell or Lewis's birth, which is when Cal had told her about going to see someone to talk to, but back before then. "We dated for a year and then we broke up."

"We broke up?" Cal cut in shocked.

"Yeah for about six months."

He looked appalled. "Why?"

Gillian winced slightly. "It's a complicated story."

"I've got time for you to unravel it. You got somewhere to be?" Cal shot back.

"I wanted to try adoption again," Gillian started slowly, watching his face carefully for reactions to her words. Cal nodded. "And you didn't want to have more kids," she added haltingly.

Cal blinked a few times in rapid succession. "So I broke it off with you?" He frowned, looked disgusted with himself.

"No it wasn't as simple as that," Gillian tried to explain. "We were going separate ways and so we literally went separate ways."

"That's stupid. I'd have more kids with you," he told her sincerely.

"I know but at the time you felt it was not something you wanted and so we spent some time apart."

"Hold on," Cal raised a hand slightly to stop her. "So then what happened with the adoption? Did you change your mind?" And how he hoped that was true but also wished it wasn't. What a selfish bastard he could be. Should he find it comforting that he hadn't changed?

"They weren't interested in me."

"What a load of bollocks," Cal complained. "Not interested in you."

Gillian held up a hand to forestall him. "Old argument," she explained. "One that we don't need to go over again."

Cal bit his tongue. "All right then, so we broke up and I landed in a therapist's office?" Seemed a bit high school.

"Well actually, we got back together first and I was worried about you so you kind of went because of me."

"You made me go?"

"No, I thought you were suffering from depression," Gillian started off slowly, unsure how he was going to react and trying to be careful. She didn't want to edit the story but she wanted to protect him from it. Their break-up was not one of her finer moments and she did feel responsible for it despite all the time that had gone by and the mutual promises they had made to not feel blame and put it behind them. "And so you went to prove me wrong or get a second opinion and after a few sessions you were doing great." Better than great. It solved so many issues and behaviours. It made him open to her and willing to talk and so... damn wonderful. Really, it had changed everything.

Cal watched her. She looked so... hopeful, he decided on. Or optimistic. Or... hopeful. Hopeful that he would accept her story or was she showing the hope she had felt at the time when clearly, everything had changed? "And was I?" He asked rhetorically because it was clear from her demeanour that he was or had been and had gotten better. He didn't know how he felt about that. He didn't remember feeling depressed. Sure, things weren't entirely great back then (which was really only a few months ago for him). And he had gotten grumpier as the years had gone by... and maybe a little despondent about the world but... did that mean he was depressed? Probably. If Gillian said so, she was probably right. She usually was about those kinds of things. And it did happen to run in the family didn't it?

"Well... I guess," Gillian started to hedge.

Cal figured she was reading him but he was just reeling from the information, not necessarily rejecting it. He reached for her hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "So I got betta?"

"Yes," she drew the word out.

"I didn't?" Cal guessed.

"No you did," Gillian affirmed.

"But?" Cal sensed.

"It's an even longer story."

"Go ahead," Cal suggested. He wasn't even sure what the original point of this story was but if she was sharing information he was certainly going to press for as much as he could get. He could sort it all out later.

"Well several years after that it occurred again."

"How come?"

Gillian hesitated. Cal could see saw the clear indecision in her eyes and something else. Fear. "Go on," he urged. "You may as well."

"You were diagnosed with cancer."

"Cance-a?!" Cal exclaimed. "Bloody hell Gill!" And then he stopped because of the pain he saw in her face. He might well be shocked and scared by the knowledge but she had lived it. He held her hand tighter. "What kind of cance-a?"

"Throat," she nearly whispered.

"The little scars here," he raised his free hand to his jaw, suddenly realising. Gillian nodded. "What happened?" He asked her.

She gave him a brief rundown of him finding a lump, getting diagnosed, how it had been stage one and easy to treat. He'd had surgery. The whole thing had been over within a few months. But he had been strong for her and because he had repressed his own fears and anger it had compounded and, internalised, those feelings led to depression. Cal nodded along as she talked, dumbfounded and awed. She wasn't kidding, hell no one had been kidding, when they said they had been through a lot. And here she was, still by his side, just one more traumatic event after the other; one more shitty situation he had put her through, purposeful or not. She hadn't even told him about Lewis's birth yet. Or the other situations he suspected were in their back catalogue, the ones she talked around because she didn't want to overwhelm him with that yet. He was starting to understand and respect her decision; the way she was handling things.

"Anything else I should be aware of?"

"There are so many things Cal," Gillian told him emotionally.

Cal brought her hand to his lips. He saw her in a whole new light now. In fact, he saw their relationship in a whole new light. Maybe he saw it a little how she did. No wonder she was so cut up about his memory loss. It wasn't just that he had forgotten their marriage, it was all those little incidences, and the really big ones, that had made their relationship strong. He understood now. Good lord the sheer thought of it...

"So there's a shrink out there who knows me," Cal remembered what they had been talking about in the first place. Along with that one memory snapping back into place, he was also doing much better at remembering things just since he had woken up. Gillian nodded. She seemed very subdued now. "Who's that then?"

"You never told me who."

'_Typical_,' Cal thought. That sounded completely like something he would do. "Can you find out for me?"

"I'll try," Gillian promised.

They were silent for a moment. Gillian's gaze drifted; Cal could see she was connecting with a memory and felt a flare of frustration. He wanted to remember too! He _wanted_ to.

"Gill?" He nudged her gently.

"Yeah?" She looked up again. Her blue eyes connecting heavily with his. They took a second to soften into her question.

"You told Rockwell I was already unda the care of a psychiatrist so I could go home soona didn't you?" Which meant she must have already talked to Rockwell before the neurologist, who was overseeing Cal's care, had come to see Cal himself.

"Yes."

"Thanks."


	37. Chapter 37

"I know I've been neglectful but I'm not completely oblivious," Gillian leaned forward to rest her arms on her desk. She gave the man opposite her desk a firm gaze. She meant business. "What's going on with you and Paul?"

Eli looked away to his left, towards her office door and gave a slight sigh. "I don't know. You should ask him."

"I'll ask him later. Right now, I'm asking you, so you have the chance to tell me your side of it."

Eli turned his gaze to look at her and Gillian pointedly studied him in return. She was giving him the benefit of the doubt, the chance to tell his side of the story before Paul could. He got to go first. She was essentially telling Eli that she trusted him over and above her other employee. And she did. Paul had made errors in judgement. She could see he was struggling with something personal and no matter how many times she took him aside and tried to be reasonable, and then firm, he didn't seem to respond. And with Cal being in the hospital she hadn't had the chance to investigate further.

"I'm listening Eli. Whatever it is, big or small. I'm here. I'm sorry you've been bearing the brunt of yet another family emergency..."

Eli raised his hand to wave her off. "It's ok. This is family too."

And to be fair, Gillian had covered for Eli when his mother's marriage had fallen apart and he'd had to go and be with her. When Ria's husband had gone overseas with work for two months and she'd been distracted they had all held her hand and taken some of her case load. They _were_ a family and looked out for each other accordingly. It was something Cal had stressed from the beginning; they had to be loyal to each other above and beyond. It was a concept Paul was having a hard time upholding and accepting. The Lightman Group was not like other places of employment. They knew his business, they knew his problems but they also had his back fiercely. He just didn't have theirs. And now it was becoming an issue. For everyone.

"I guess it's just a difference of opinion," Eli finally answered her. "I just feel like he's not pulling his weight around here as much as he used to and when I mention that to him, he goes off at me."

Gillian nodded. "Any idea why?"

"He's two-faced."

Gillian raised an eyebrow in question only.

"He's riding on the coat tails of others, putting in a minimum effort," Eli sighed again and raised his hand this time to stop himself. "Things have been tough with Cal in the hospital and we really all needed to band together, instead, he went off to do his own thing."

"Has he said anything to you about his life away from here?" Meaning his personal life. Which is what she had been asking before, when she had asked if Eli knew anything about why Paul was behaving the way he was.

Eli shook his head.

Gillian nodded, hating that she didn't have time to look in to this properly. As much as she would like to get to the bottom of Paul's problems, at the end of the day, she had her own. And as selfish as it may sound, she was more worried about herself at the moment. He'd had chances to talk. He'd had chances to come to her. He'd had chances to change this, to fix it, and he hadn't. "Ok. Thank you," she told Eli, leaning back in her chair to show he was dismissed.

"Yep," he leaned forward in his chair to get up. "Just a question. Are you going to do anything about it?"

Gillian gave him a blank stare.

"None of my business," Eli answered himself with a slight mouth frown.

When it came down to it, if it was a choice between Eli and Paul, the preference would have been Eli. He had been with them a long time and was very good at his job. Gillian had misevaluated Doctor Paul Roberts and if he didn't sort himself out, she was going to show him the door.

"Thank you for talking to me Eli," Gillian told him as he got to his feet.

"Hey Cal's going home today right?" He turned back from the door.

"Yeah," Gillian nodded with a smile.

"Good," Eli responded with a firm nod. He reached for the door handle and pushed the obstacle out of his way.

Gillian sighed. She didn't need this today. She opened a new post it on her desktop. It was already covered with things she needed to do. She added a new one and simply typed on it: PR. Then she checked the time. She had to go. She hoped Eli would hold out just a few more days, so she could get Cal settled at home and implement a new routine, then she would deal with the problems in the office. Such normalcy! How exciting!

**PJ**

Cal sat and kicked his feet. Next to him on the bed was his bag already packed. He was ready to go home. He had said his goodbyes. Most of the staff he was going to see again the next day. He still had occupational therapy and physical therapy to attend. His estimated time of recovery, based on a formula of one month of rehab for every day he was unconscious, put him in the forty month category. He hoped it wouldn't come to that at all. He hoped it might be six months to a year tops. He would continue to have regular checkups with Doctor Rockwell and he was still under instruction to speak with a therapist. He hadn't found a number in his phone under 'doctor' of anything. Just first names or last names, sometimes both. And he didn't exactly want to start ringing around. That could be a little awkward. Gillian's intervention meant he could leave _now_.

He spotted Gillian coming down the corridor and gave her a smile. She grinned back. "Ready to go huh?" She asked as she reached his doorway.

"Yep," Cal pushed off the bed to his feet. "Let's get out of here."

"No preamble?" Gillian queried as he reached for his bag. She wondered if she should intervene and carry it for him. She waited to see if he was going to struggle. There can't have been much in it aside from clothes, toiletries and a book or two. He seemed ok with it so Gillian headed slowly for the door. Cal had a cane to help him walk. He had bitched about not needing it and yet he used it happily now as they headed down corridors. Cal signed paper work to discharge himself and then they really were on their way. Once they were outside Cal stopped for a moment. Gillian took a few steps until she realised he had halted. She turned back to find him staring up at the bright blue sky.

His gaze suddenly fell on hers. "This is what freedom feels like," he gave her a grin.

Gillian laughed. Freshly shaven, tidy hair cut, slightly underweight, Cal looked the best she had seen him in months. He seemed happy, carefree and so was Gillian; the most she had felt in months. She headed towards him again her hand outstretched. She took Cal's bag, transferred it to her other hand and then gripped his. "Let's go," she suggested.

"Yep," Cal agreed stepping down off the sidewalk carefully. Like he needed to fall flat on his face today of all days. He looked over at his wife as she walked slowly alongside him. He wanted to lunge towards her and kiss her neck. A few months ago, before all this happened, he would have. Every opportunity he got. He was sure of it.

Cal was disorientated when Gillian unlocked a car he didn't recognise. It was black, a sedan, a model he didn't know. She told him it was his car. In the back there was a child restraint for Lewis and an assortment of toys and books strewn across the floor and seating. Gillian put Cal's bag behind his seat, then went around to the driver's side. Cal took his time lowering himself down; Adam had warned him if he didn't take it easy he would revoke his home pass and that threat alone was enough to make Cal promise to be a good boy (and actually use the cane like he had been instructed). He didn't want to stay at the rehabilitation facility a day longer than he had to, let alone have to go back.

Gillian headed across the city through neighbourhoods that had changed so much Cal didn't recognise them and some that had not changed at all. Road layouts had new routes. Shops had disappeared and been replaced. There were new models of cars on the streets he still couldn't place. There was even a new shade of blue he had never seen on a vehicle before. He didn't know what he was expecting but it was certainly not the house Gillian pulled into the driveway of. She waited for the garage door to go up, then pulled inside and pressed the remote to close it again.

The house was two stories. The lower half was sand coloured bricks, the top half white painted weather boards. The garage was cluttered with shelves of boxes, bicycles, gumboots, a wheelbarrow, rakes and other assorted gardening equipment. In the back Cal could see a washing machine and dryer separated off into their own space by the back door. There was a cat flap and he wondered if they had pets. They were parked next to a silver car which looked remarkably similar to Cal's. He didn't recognise that one either but figured it must be Gillian's. As he walked around it he could see another car seat in the back and the same, although tidier, assortment of children's toys and books. Gillian had a figurine stuck to the back window of her car. It looked like an orange dinosaur.

Gillian was waiting for Cal at the internal access door. There were steps up to the medium grey carpeted hallway. Cal wanted to look at everything all at once. There were photos in this short cream-painted hallway, a series he could see, of him, Gillian and Lewis at a park in winter. Lewis looked like he was perhaps a year old. His smile was the same as Gillian's; his eye colour the same as Cal's. Their cheeks were ruddy from the cold despite being wrapped up warmly. They looked happy, from what Cal could tell, but he would be back checking eye wrinkling to make sure.

Gillian silently waited patiently for him at the end of the short hallway. She started away to Gillian silently waited patiently for him at the end of the short hallway. She started away to the right once he had finished looking at the photos and caught up to her. Right in the front of the house was a guest room, clearly. There was generic art on the walls and neutral coloured covers on the bed. "I set you up down here," Gillian spoke. She placed his bag on the end of the bed. She turned to him. "I wasn't sure if you would be ok with the stairs," she offered and Cal nodded. "I didn't want to just assume," she added and finished '_you would sleep with me'_ in her head.

Cal nodded. "Thanks." He was overwhelmed right now and having his own space seemed quite welcoming. He was grateful she had thought of that without him having to reject her. At the start of the week he had already blown it, he didn't want to make it worse now. And then he realised something. "I recognise this bed," he smiled at the mattress. "This is my bed."

"Yeah," Gillian gave him a relieved smile.

"Do we sleep in your bed?" Cal asked her with a slight smirk.

She smirked right on back. "No. We used to sleep in your bed. We got a new one for ourselves when we moved."

Cal's mind immediately went to '_I bet we had fun breaking that in' _but he kept his tongue. In light of his first abysmal attempt in the sack with her he was not in a position of confidence. But he was pretty sure they would have. Especially when she looked at him like that. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing.

After a moment she changed the subject. "I brought some of your clothes down, socks and underwear but if you want anything just let me know or come up and get it," she added with a flip of her hand, as if it were a solution she hadn't thought of yet but was much better than what she had planned.

"All right," Cal agreed.

"And there are clean towels in the bathroom upstairs. You can use either one. There's a toilet down here."

"Minibar?" Cal quipped. "What time does the kitchen close?"

Gillian gave him a slight smile. She took a deep breath but let it out quietly. She looked around. "Your wallet is there." She pointed to it. She had made sure she put his credit card back too. She turned back to face him expectantly. "Can I do anything else for you? Do you want to lie down for a bit?"

"I've just spent the last month lyin' down," Cal answered.

"Sure," she agreed easily.

At least she didn't patronise the shit out of him, Cal thought to himself. She could have told him he should lie down and rest or any other manner of annoying and condescending things.

"Have you eaten? I haven't had lunch yet."

"Yeah they fed me before they set me free. But I could murda a cup of tea. _Murda_ one," Cal repeated for emphasis.

Gillian smiled her amusement and headed out of the room. Cal turned and followed after her slowly. She headed right down the corridor. She took Cal past a small room that was set up as a study, another that was a toilet and another closed door that was very likely to be a closet of some sort. At the end of the hallway it opened wider into a charcoal grey slate tile foyer. On the left was the carpeted living room and a couch Cal actually recognised as his; the chocolate brown one. He could see photos on the mantle above an open fire place that was probably more decorative than anything else. To the right was the kitchen, where the slate tiles continued. Directly ahead were stairs.

Gillian headed into the kitchen, filled the kettle from the tap and set it on the gas. Cal took stock of the room from just inside the door way. The kitchen was on the right, a large island with double sink in front, the stove/oven, fridge, benches and pantry behind. On the other side of the island was a large breakfast bar. It was cluttered with the base for a phone that was missing, mail, phone books, pot plants, a fruit bowl, crayons, car keys, one of Gillian's bags, a shoe that must belong to Lewis and a dirty bowl. Gillian reached over the bench for the bowl and rinsed it, clearly giving Cal time to inspect. Two shallow steps down led to an open space that was probably meant to be a formal dining area but was actually used as another living room, or a den. There was a large screen TV in the corner, beaten up couches arranged around a wooden coffee table and a book case beside the wall that was loaded up with DVD's, CD's and children's books. There were a few more photos on the shelf. Opposite the TV corner was a sliding door leading out to a patio. Cal could see outdoor furniture and a large sun umbrella. To the right of the kitchen area was a conservatory. It was floor to ceiling (including the ceiling) tinted glass. Cal could see there were rolled blinds to be able to close the sun out if they wanted to and a cushioned window seat ran the length and around the corner. This was where Gillian would live. In this wide open space that was the kitchen/living room/dining room; full of light and life.

The dining table was in the space of the conservatory, pushed up against the other wall so it would not clutter the window seats too much. There were woven mats stacked in the centre but one place was still set and there were little pellets of cereal where Lewis had clearly had his breakfast that morning. The kettle started to sing and it brought Cal's attention back to Gillian, who had made herself a sandwich. She turned to shut it off and poured water into two mugs. She poured milk as well and went to the fridge to put it back. "Where do you want to sit?" She asked him grabbing a plate for her lunch.

"Uh," Cal thought. Where should he sit in a house that was his but wasn't home? "Couch sounds good right about now." How long had it been since he had parked his ass on a couch? Far too freaking long. He hoped they were comfortable. Gillian balanced her plate on her wrist as she carefully carried the two cups over to the couches. She sat on the two-seater, leaving Cal the length of the three-seater to stretch out. She kicked her shoes off and tucked her feet under her butt as she sat.

"So what do you think?" She asked, focussing on picking up her sandwich.

"It's lovely Gill," Cal told her in a murmur. He could see into the yard from here. There was a tricycle on the lawn, a swing and slide set and a sandpit against the fence. There were assorted trees and bushes, and flowers in the front of the beds. He reached for his tea and wrapped his fingers around the mug. The heat hadn't soaked through the ceramic yet.

Gillian gave him a pleased smile as she looked up, sandwich in hand. "This whole side of the house is orientated to get all day sunshine. It's the same for our bedroom upstairs."

Cal nodded that he understood. They sat in silence for a moment while she ate. "What happened to my old place?" He asked tentatively.

"It's still there. It's rented out to a family."

"Oh so I didn't sell it?"

"No."

"Oh good," Cal sipped his team. "Mmm," he made a noise of appreciation. "Perfect." He didn't know why he was impressed by that. Gillian had been making him tea for years. Perhaps it was just because he had missed it so much.

"I'll have to go and get Lewis soon," Gillian noted lightly. It wasn't exactly an uncomfortable silence but it wasn't entirely easy either. She could see Cal's gaze wandering over everything, absorbing and scrutinising and probably wondering. "Do you want to stay here?"

"I'll come for the ride," Cal volunteered quickly.


	38. Chapter 38

"Dad! Oh! Oh! Dad!" Lewis exclaimed excitedly as he spotted his father. He ran over but Gillian caught him by his shoulders and upper arms before he could crash into Cal's legs.

"You have to be careful," she told him signing 'careful' by making 'K' hands and rolling them in a circle like a Ferris wheel, away from and back towards her body.

Lewis squirmed and pushed out of her grasp to approach his father, still rapidly, but at least toned down from before. Lewis wrapped his arms around his father's hips, reaching up slightly to do so. Every head in the place had turned to watch them, though only some of the noise had died down. In the car Cal had grilled Gillian on names again. He didn't want to go in there and have to explain he had no idea who anyone was. Gillian promised him she would look after him.

"Come and look Dad," Lewis grabbed his hand and immediately started tugging.

"Lewis!" Gillian reprimanded again. "Gentle." She signed 'soft': holding her hands with her fingers open and pointing upwards, then dropping them slightly while closing her fingers together and repeating the movement.

Lewis didn't let go but at least stopped pulling Cal so viciously. "Come see my boo-ding."

Gillian followed along beside her boys. Lisa approached them. "Hi Cal," she greeted him warmly. "It's so good to see you doing so well."

He looked a little bewildered, just for that split second that Gillian saw and no one else did, but gave a slight polite smile. He obviously did not recognise this woman and was startled that she clearly knew him. "Thank you." And then he glanced to Gillian with a flash of a 'help me', that she saw and no one else did.

"We're not going to stay long Lisa," Gillian told her, at least confirming who she was for Cal. They had arrived early this afternoon and that usually meant, if one of them showed up early, that they were there to hang out for a while with Lewis and play. But not today.

"Oh that's ok, whatever you want to do," she brushed off easily. A crying two year old approached her, red cheeked and snotty nosed. "Aw what happened to you Sam?"

Her attention diverted, Gillian and Cal successfully extricated themselves. Lewis started to grunt under the effort of trying to drag his father to the corner where a large tower of delicately balanced wooden blocks was erected. When they finally arrived he stopped and pointed. "Look!"

"Wow," Gillian was impressed. It seemed taller than anything else he had managed.

"Wow," Cal echoed but he sounded like he was forcing his interest.

"It's verr big," Lewis made a 'large gesture, 'L' hands in front of his body, palms facing each other with the index fingers slightly bent, moving away from each other, outwards, towards the edge of his body.

"It must be the biggest," Gillian tried to indicate to Cal why he should be so impressed.

Lewis nodded. "Verr big," he repeated. "The biggest." He made the 'large' gesture again, this time extending his arms quite wide to indicate just how 'big' it really was.

"Did you have help?"

Lewis nodded. "Robert and Quieton."

"Is Quinton back?" Gillian asked him surprised. The baby had been kept home sick with a cold for the last week.

Lewis nodded. "He's all betta now and Dad's aalllll betta now." He grinned up at his father.

Cal smiled politely. Definitely overwhelmed. It was noisy here and he had gotten used to the peacefulness of the rehab centre. Plus there was this whole other language he had to learn he hadn't noticed so acutely before, and he didn't just mean the signing. Lewis had a whole world of his own that Cal had no idea about. And then there was the world Gillian and Lewis occupied. Cal had a lot of catching up to do.

"Ok shall we go home?" Gillian suggested. Lewis nodded. "Are you going to leave your tower for tomorrow?" If it survived the other children that was. He would be so disappointed if someone else kicked it down.

Lewis nodded again. He turned around and started dragging Cal long behind him again. "He likes to build towers," Gillian told Cal as they walked.

"Oh," Cal responded.

"But that's his best effort."

Cal forced a nod. Lewis let go of his hand to rush to the peg where his bag was hanging. He lifted it down and then turned to the shelf to get his lunch box and drink bottle. He came back and look at his father hesitantly, then decided to try and give it to his mother. "What's wrong with your arms?" She asked him as they headed for the door, raising her hands so they were out of his reach. She didn't take the bag from him.

"Oh," Lewis answered.

"Thought so," Gillian teased him, giving his hair a ruffle. Lewis laughed and rushed for the door. He had to wait for an adult to open it but once he was freed from the building he ran along the path in front of the parked cars to his mother's vehicle. Gillian remote unlocked it to allow him to get in. As she walked with Cal she turned to watch him. He was suddenly very subdued. "Are you ok?" She asked gently giving another parent a returned wave.

"Yeah," he looked over at her, forcing another smile. "Just tired I guess."

"You can lie down when we get home if you want to."

"I might do that," Cal agreed as they reached the car. He had hit the wall.

**PJ**

Gillian made a simple meal for dinner, not wanting to spend too long slaving over the stove when her husband was home. After they got back to the house he went for an afternoon nap so Gillian kept Lewis occupied so he wouldn't immediately want to pester his father. Cal found them at the kitchen table drawing when he woke up a few hours later. He sat with Lewis while Gillian cooked and then they ate together at the table, the first time in far too long. A warmth spread through Gillian as she watched Lewis tell Cal he should eat his greens because they would make him strong like Lewis. He was so cute sometimes, and accepting and loving. He climbed up in his seat to lean over and give Cal a kiss. He also wanted to sit in his father's lap and made Cal promise that they would watch a movie together once they had finished eating.

"Pomice?"

"Promise," Cal nodded.

Gillian didn't notice that Cal remained relatively quiet and if his response to Lewis's chatter was a confused expression or bewilderment she put that down to him still having to get used to the four year old. When he was excited, Lewis's words tended to run together. Even she struggled to understand him sometimes. Either way, she brushed it off. It was the first day back. It was going to be hard on him. She wasn't surprised when he announced he was going to go to bed early.

"Aw but," Lewis started to complain.

"It's nearly your bed time too," Gillian told him quickly, cutting him off. "So go upstairs and put your pyjamas on please." She signed 'clothes' ('five' hands brushing down and away from her chest') and 'bed' (placing her hands, together, fingers extended, against her cheek and tilting her head, like the common signal for 'asleep').

"I'm not sleepy."

"That doesn't matter," she countered. "Go and do it."

Lewis sprawled over the back of the couch where Cal was sitting and then dropped to the floor. He traipsed from the room slowly finding three interesting things to look at on his way out. Gillian looked over at Cal. "Do you want to shower before you go to sleep?"

"No that's all right. I showa-ed this mornin'."

"Ok," she gave a slight smile to show she was not offended by him turning down her offer.

"Just teeth and bed for me."

"I should make sure Lewis hasn't found some interesting game to carry on with it," Gillian shifted to the edge of the couch and got up.

"Well you can show me upstairs," Cal suggested as he got to his feet too, far less agilely than Gillian had a moment ago.

"Sure," she gave him a pleased smile.

"I'll grab my bag."

"Meet you up there then," Gillian responded. She headed towards the kitchen door, the one that led to the intersection of steps, hallway and doorways and turned right to go up the stairs.

Cal went down to his room and grabbed his toiletry bag before he followed her, finding the stairs took some serious effort. Cal looked up at the expanse before him, suddenly daunted. On the landing was a window looking out on the darkening backyard. On each side wall was art. Cal barely had the chance to glance at anything other than the next set of stairs as he was conscious of how long he was taking. Gillian might be wondering where he is. These were, thank god, half the distance of the first set. Cal stopped at the top of the stairs landing. The walls here were painted a forest green. But there was enough warmth in it and from a set of windows on the left that kept it from being dark. On the right was a bedroom, the master bedroom by the look of it. There was a large bed against the wall in the middle of the room. There were framed pictures on the walls, the curtains were still open and the setting sun flooded the room in pink and orange. Cal stood for a moment and observed the space. This was their bedroom? It was... it wasn't triggering anything in him but a desire to sleep in that bed with his wife. No memories suddenly came back to him. Cal moved on.

Further down the hall there was another bedroom on the left; Lewis's room. It was darker, as it didn't receive the full impact of the setting sun, and there was a light on spilling into the hallway so Cal knew where he was supposed to be going. As if he couldn't tell from the amount of noise Lewis was making. He was squealing and periodic thuds indicated he was probably bouncing around the room.

As Cal approached the doorway he could hear Gillian telling him off. "Here put these on rudey boy." Cal stopped, surprised. His mother used to call him rude boy when he was dancing around the house, two, naked, or clothed in underwear only. She used to slap his thighs and backside if he got too close to her or she caught him.

"Mum?" He sounded breathless.

"Yes Lewis?"

"Is Dad gonna be here tomorrow when wake up?"

Cal hung back from the door, not wanting them to know he was there, listening.

"Yes of course he is," Gillian answered. "Here."

Cal waited.

"He's gonna live here now eh?"

"Yes," Gillian half laughed. "You know Dad lives here."

"Cos," Lewis started and then his voice was muffled and Cal wondered what he had said. "And then gone again," the four year old finished.

"Yes but that's because Daddy was sick and needed to be in the hospital to get better. And now he's better he's home again," Gillian explained.

"Benny says his Dad doesn't live his house."

"Does he?" Gillian mused. There was silence for a moment and Cal strained to hear more, subconsciously inching forward. "When did Benny tell you this?"

"Everyone."

"When was this?" Gillian pressed.

"Um," Lewis hummed. "Not yesty-day but the other yesty-day."

"Did he say why?"

"Uh," Lewis hummed again. "Mum and Dad yell lots."

There was more silence and Cal figured he was actually in quite a vulnerable position. If they suddenly came through the door he would be busted and it wasn't like he was agile enough to suddenly leap out of the way. He pushed back from the door and took a step backwards then moved into the light and walked purposefully forward again. Gillian was sitting on the bed doing up the last button of Lewis's night shirt. Her head snapped up to see Cal approaching. Lewis followed her gaze and immediately pulled out of his mother's grasp. "Dad!" He rushed forward to hug his father around his hips.

Cal's hand automatically dropped to his son's shoulder. "Ready for teeth?"

"Uh huh," Lewis looked up at him. "I like you Dad."

Cal gave him a slight smile. "Thanks Lewis. I like you too."

"Teeth," Gillian reminded him as she got up from the bed. Lewis raced from the room with a squeal. "You too," she told Cal as she approached him. She brushed by as Cal grinned. He followed the noise across the hall to the bathroom. It was medium sized, tiled in black and white. In one corner was a huge spa bath, the other had a shower cubicle and behind the door was the vanity. Lewis was standing on a step, studying himself in the mirror while he scrubbed at his teeth. Gillian was dumping Lewis's clothes into the washing basket.

"Can I join you?" Cal asked as he approached his son.

Lewis leaned down for the toothpaste and handed it over solemnly and silently, like the passing of the torch. Cal thanked him. Gillian told Cal which fresh towels were for him and he nodded his thanks to her, his toothbrush already in his mouth. After teeth there was use of the toilet (Cal let Lewis go first) and then into bed. Gillian removed Lewis's hearing aids and tucked him in. She leaned down to give him a kiss and hug goodnight. Cal hovered. He knew it would be expected of him to, by Lewis anyway, if not Gillian, to do the same and acknowledged to himself for the first time in the three weeks that he had been awake and found out he had a four year old, that he was going through the motions of being a father, of being part of their family. He wasn't very actively involved. He forced himself to lean down and give the boy a hug goodnight. Lewis gripped Cal's head and jaw to plant a kiss on his cheek. He gave a little self-satisfied sigh as he snuggled under the covers and Cal absently readjusted them around the boy's shoulders. Like had done this before. He had. With Emily as well as Lewis. He knew the drill even if it felt strange, like tucking someone else's kid in for the night.

After they closed Lewis's door Gillian took Cal's hand and walked with him slowly down the hall to their bedroom. Gillian's bedroom. Their bedroom? It didn't seem right to claim it as his when he had no recollection of being there at all.

"This is our room," Gillian stood with him, just inside the doorway. She seemed proud but also nervous so he told her it was nice (it was unfamiliar) and that he liked it (he didn't remember it at all) and started to hate himself for appeasing her. He should be able to be honest with her right? But going there, to their house, to their life, it was starting to crash down around him. What he had done by getting hit over the head. He had destroyed everything they had built. And they had clearly built so much.

"I'm going to head to bed," Cal told her gently, avoiding her eye carefully. He extricated his hand to turn away.

"Want me to tuck you in?"

Cal didn't quite recognise her tone (but then he had been struggling with that for the last few weeks.) It sounded like she was hopeful but cautious, teasing but serious. Cal decided he had no idea. He glanced at her eyes, trying to read her that way. She just waited for him to answer. "Nah I'll be all right."

"Ok," she nodded and he wondered if that was disappointment. Or was it just that that was what he wanted to see on her face, hoped to see. He wanted her to want him. Her hand came out to give his arm a brief squeeze. "Good night. Sweet dreams."

"You too," Cal mumbled and shuffled out the door.

"I'll come down in a minute and put the lights out," she called over her shoulder as he disappeared.

Gillian already felt dejected before he had even reached the stairs. The sun had disappeared behind the horizon now and the temperature was starting to noticeably drop. '_It's his first day back_,' she told herself as she went to close the curtains. '_Give him a chance to adjust. It must all be very overwhelming. This is just going to take some time_.'


	39. Chapter 39

"Cal."

"Hm?" He twitched awake. He was face down on the bed, between the pillows. He must have been far more comfortable in his own bed to have slept so soundly. He didn't remember waking once in the night; hadn't heard a thing.

"Oh sorry, you're asleep," she whispered and started to exit again.

Cal turned over and squinted at the door. "What?" he asked before the door could close.

Gillian reappeared. "I'm taking Lewis to day care now," she whispered again. "I just wanted to say goodbye."

"All right," Cal turned over further. Lewis stood behind his mother. He had a frown on his face, his bag on his back. He stood on the threshold of the doorway and came no further. Then Cal realised Gillian was hovering and he focused his attention back on her.

"There's um, keys by the door, if you want to go out and you know, just," she hesitated again.

Cal took in her outfit, skirt and shirt. Her hair was pulled back from her face and her eye make-up was smoky. She looked fantastic. Cal realised she was still talking to him. "Sure," he answered.

"Ok," she gave him a smile. She turned to Lewis. "All right let's go buddy. Get in the car." Lewis spun on his heel and tracked out of sight. Gillian pulled the door closed behind her. A moment later Cal heard car doors slam and the garage open. He moved to lie down again, squishing the pillow to get comfortable. The car engine started and got quieter as Gillian drove away from the house. The garage door closed again. But Cal couldn't go back to sleep. He needed the bathroom. He threw back the covers and levered himself up slowly. His muscles were a little stiff, but that was probably because his bed was a lot softer than the one at the rehab facility.

Cal shuffled down the length of the bed, resting on the bed post for a moment before attempting a few unsteady steps across the room. He wasn't meant to, his hand to eye/body coordination was not what it used to be. He was supposed to use his cane. But fuck that. He was a big boy. He could handle walking that short distance to the doorframe. He did and he felt pretty proud of himself too. He used the wall to hang on to as he shuffled down to the toilet. As he stood preparing to empty his bladder he realised he had no 'morning wood'.

After the bathroom Cal stumbled his way to the kitchen. There was still coffee in the pot so he went through the cupboards until he found the mugs. He poured a little and cut it down with a lot of milk. Then he tentatively went through the pantry and the fridge to find something for breakfast. He found a fruit cup that was probably part of Lewis's stash and helped himself. He stood in the kitchen in his bare feet and looked around. He had the house to himself and it was peacefully quiet. Far quieter than the rehab facility. So what was he going to do?

He took his coffee carefully over to the table. He stubbed his toe as he went and winced at the sharp stab of pain. Not only was his hand to eye and body coordination on the fritz, he had noticed his eyesight in general had deteriorated quite a bit. The distances were so much blurrier than he remembered them being and he even had to squint at the screen of his phone. His phone! Now there was something to do. There were messages and likely photos on there that would give him information about this alternate life he had. But that was all the way on the other side of the house in his bedroom. And he had just sat down. Cal looked over at the bookshelves. What about photo albums? In a digital world did they, or Gillian, still make prints and put them together into books?

Cal got up carefully again, taking his coffee with him as he moved from furniture to furniture, piece-mealing his way across the room. He put his coffee down, feeling like the world was swaying a little and as he sat heavily he wondered if he was ever going to stop feeling like that. He certainly had been made no promises from his neurologist or physical and occupational therapists. No one had assured him he would get better. So then what was he working towards? Going home. Well he was here now, so... what? What was next? He shook himself out of it, knowing self pity was not going to get him anywhere at all. Right now, his first priority, he decided, would be to piece together what had happened in the last ten years. Sure, he wasn't going to know every detail. He might not remember every scraped knee or every flirting gesture, but he could figure out the significant events from his life with his son and wife. Right?

There must be clues around the house and he could snoop to his heart's content while Gillian was at work during the day. Cal leaned forward to study the book case. Children's books lined the lowest two shelves. The middle shelves had photos in frames; Lewis as a baby, all of them at Christmas, a wedding photo. Cal grabbed that one to inspect closer. It was a formal photo of the wedding party. Him and Gillian, obviously, and Emily, standing on Cal's side, and two women on Gillian's side. One was short, with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. The other had dark skin, black hair and deep brown eyes. Cal stared for a moment, urging his mind to connect with a memory. Who were the women? When was their wedding anniversary again? He turned the frame over. Gillian's handwriting was on the back of the frame in silver: May 12th Casey, Kate, Gillian, Cal, Emily.

Casey. Kate. Cal thought back but back to when? He didn't remember them. He must not have met them before. But both names seemed a little familiar. Perhaps Gillian had mentioned them before? In real life.

May twelfth. Now that date really did seem familiar. Of course, Gillian had told him their wedding date a few times since he had woken up but that wasn't it. There was something else. He had seen that date just recently. Yesterday in fact. When he had signed his discharge. That was it! Cal's heart hammered with remembering. That was the date he had been admitted to the hospital! He sat back, proud that he had remembered something without having to be prompted by someone else. Oh shit. The twelfth? He was admitted on the twelfth. Their wedding anniversary?

"Good lord," Cal muttered.

**PJ**

Gillian called out as soon as she was in the hallway. She had already checked the guest room and Cal was not in it. She headed for the kitchen and found him on the couch. He was studying a photo frame, the one of his fiftieth birthday party by the look of it. He was still in his pyjamas. "Hey," Gillian called to him, setting her car keys and purse on the kitchen counter.

Cal looked over at her suddenly. "Oh I was just lookin'," he explained.

"Please go ahead," Gillian gestured. "There are photo albums in the other room if you want those."

Cal looked a little bewildered but he indicated that he did. Gillian told him she would get them for him. Cal thanked her. She asked him if he was ready to go.

"Go where?"

"To physical therapy? Remember this morning I said I'd come home and pick you up?"

"Oh," Cal shifted to the edge of the couch and pushed himself to his feet. He took unsteady steps along it and when he was able to finally reach, gripped the back tightly. "I was kind of half asleep this morning," he admitted.

"That's ok," Gillian told him with a reassuring smile.

"I'll get dressed," he mumbled as he headed past her carefully, reaching out for the kitchen bench as a guide.

"We've got time," she told him. "Are you hungry? I'll make you lunch before we go." Gillian watched as Cal suddenly turned his head to the oven clock. He seemed surprised; clearly time had gotten away on him today. She also noted he wasn't using his cane and that he moved so slowly. He just wasn't the same.

She made him a sandwich, of which he ate half, claiming he just wasn't very hungry. Gillian brushed it off easily. He would probably work up an appetite later. He gave her a ghost of a smile and she put that down to something being on his mind. He seemed distracted and a little distant but surely he was just processing; he had been looking at photos just a moment ago. He was just getting used to being home again right? His clothes hung from his slight frame and she wondered if they should go shopping for jeans and shirts a few sizes smaller. Was he going to bulk out again? How long were they going to be in this limbo?

Gillian dropped him off at rehab and said she would pick him up again later. He nodded vaguely and wandered off inside. Gillian went back to work refusing to let herself worry. They were just adjusting. They were just trying to figure things out again. That's all it was.

**PJ**

There was a light tap on the slightly ajar door and Cal turned his head in time to see Gillian tentatively peeking through the gap she had widened. "Hey," she almost whispered. "I'm just heading up to bed now."

"Ok," Cal acknowledged. He rolled on to his back from his side to see her better. From what he could gather she was in her pyjamas; an extremely thin strapped, sky blue, tank top. Her bottom half was still obscured by the door and the angle at which she leaned into the room. He could see right down her front. He wished he had his glasses on.

"Goodnight," Gillian offered again.

"You're not gonna tuck me in?" Cal queried lightly.

Gillian gave a slight smile from the door way as she pushed back the barrier further. Cal could see now that she was in light pyjama bottoms, sky blue as well, with bright yellow suns and extending rays dotted around.

"You tucked in Lewis," Cal pouted which emboldened his wife to cross the room to where he was lying.

"You're already in," she told him in belated counter offensive, adjusting the cover at his side anyway where he had turned to lie on it partially.

"Kiss then," Cal looked up at her innocently.

Gillian's lips twitched again, in what looked like amusement, but Cal couldn't be sure. She gave a very small sigh as she leaned down to press her lips against his forehead. "Aw come on," Cal complained, risking a glance to her very pronounced and clearly unencumbered cleavage. It was right in his face after all, the way she was leaning over him. "That was a kiss goodnight?"

Gillian dropped her head again to press her lips briefly against his. Cal's hand shot up to hold her arm, keeping her in place even as he felt her resist slightly in an attempt to pull away. "Much betta," Cal murmured before pulling her down against his chest and turning them so her back was flat against the covers, her legs draped over his hips and his mouth was on hers again. She gave a little squeak of surprise but quickly succumbed to his kisses. Cal breathed deeply through his nose while exploring her mouth with his tongue. She smelt and tasted so good! His left hand freely roamed over her thigh and hips, not yet brave enough to touch her anywhere truly intimate. He wasn't sure how quickly their relationship had progressed the first time, and how far he could push it this second time, despite having a hunch about both.

When he pulled away Gillian looked over at him, breathing a little heavier than normal and giving him an expression that was either suspicious, cautious, or surprised. "I love that I can finally do that," Cal told her, shaking off the unnerving conclusion being thrown in his face more and more apparently as the freaking hours were going by; he couldn't read her anymore.

"Do what?" Gillian raised an eyebrow.

"Kiss you on my terms," Cal responded, shifting his body further over to dump her legs on the bed, pushing aside that strange feeling in his heart.

"Your terms?" The eyebrow went a little higher.

"You know, I can kiss you, instead of havin' to wait for you to come to me."

"Oh," Gillian said slowly. She smiled suddenly and propped herself up on her elbow. "Yeah I like that too." She leaned in to kiss him again, sweetly this time, almost apologetic. "I should go," she murmured.

"Stay," Cal whispered to her, noting his heart pounded slightly. Nerves? Or was it just the close proximity of the woman he was in love with?

"I shouldn't," Gillian frowned.

"I don't bite," Cal tried to coax. "Unless you like that?" He dipped his head to try and see how her face reacted.

Gillian tried poorly to hide a smirk. "It's not that."

"Then, do I smell?" Cal lifted the front of his shirt to give it a sniff. "I promise I did showa this aftanoon." After he had gotten home from physical therapy. Gillian had dropped him off before going to get Lewis for some appointment. He used the spare bathroom; it seemed like a violation of Gillian's privacy to use her bathroom. He hadn't even had the heart to go through her underwear drawer like he had teased.

"You absolutely do," Gillian told him seriously. "You smell great." Cal afforded her a slight smile and leaned in to kiss her again. She kissed him back, her warm hand caressing the side of his neck. Cal dared to be bold and she let him, falling gently back against the mattress. Cal's hunger for her slipped out of his control and he kissed her deeply, wanting so much more of her, desperate in convincing her to say and not leave him. But normally, by now, he'd find his blood rushing south to make his groin pound. Normally. Gillian gave a slight moan. Her fingers found their way beneath his shirt collar and lower at the hem and Cal suddenly panicked. He pulled away abruptly, gasping for air.

"What?" Gillian asked him equally as breathless as she looked up. She didn't seem angry or confused, merely curious. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair slightly dishevelled and if it wasn't the sexiest way for her to look right now… and still no reaction….

"Just," Cal started. "I don't know. I don't want to rush."

"Rush what?" She asked gently.

"You know."

"Sex?" Her tone got cautious.

"No," Cal tried. "Well actually, yeah, sex, because, you know…" Don't tell her it was because of last time, Cal told himself. That wasn't the issue. Was it? No, it wasn't. He was fine. "I'm just you know…"

Gillian shook her head slightly. Cal shifted further away from her, putting more distance between them. "I just would like us to get to know each otha a bit betta is all."

"How chivalrous," Gillian noted lightly.

"It's not that I don't want to," Cal tried. He really did. Apparently his body did not want to. "I just think it's important," he took her hand, forced a sincere expression and hoped she would let it go. Hoped the light was dim enough so she wouldn't be able to completely see right through him.

"It's probably better we don't rush into anything you're not ready for," Gillian noted lightly.

Did she notice? Cal felt another surge of panic. Had she felt, or not felt, as the case may be, his lack of reaction? He hadn't managed a hard on since that morning in the rehab facility. Not this morning, which was usual, or even when he had been thinking about her while in the shower that afternoon.

"I just don't want it to be too much all at once," Gillian continued. She could probably easily read the disappointment on his face. She gave his arm a gentle squeeze. She was asking him if he understood.

"That's probably for the best," Cal answered. But somehow with sex off the table (and therefore any boundary or performance issues being nullified) he didn't feel better about it or relieved for that matter.

"Ok," Gillian agreed with a deep release of her breath. She was nervous too, Cal realised. Perhaps she had no idea what she was doing or how to handle this. He hadn't considered that before. He just figured she had a plan and was working to it. How had he suddenly made this about her?

He took her hand from his arm and gave her fingers a squeeze. He told her it was fine. She gave him another quick kiss and wished him sweet dreams before scooting over the mattress and out the door. Cal heard the switch of lights being extinguished and then complete silence. He leaned over to his bedside table where his phone was. In the hospital, he hadn't thought to go through the various folders. He had scrolled through phone contacts, hoping or wondering if any names would jog his memory (which they hadn't). He was still acutely aware of how slow he was processing the things around him. Gillian had given his phone back to him a week ago and only now he was thinking to check the texts? The lack of ingenuity shocked him. He wasn't normally like this at all. He was meant to be sharp, that was what distinguished him from others.

Cal started with text messages. There were uninteresting ones about work and a few other various random snippets of information. They didn't mean anything to him and he couldn't deduce anything from them. Then there were several hundred text messages from Emily and distracted, Cal went through them all. It took him several hours and by the end of it he was exhausted. So much for getting to Gillian and working out what he had missed with his marriage and his son in the last six years of their existence. It would have to wait until tomorrow. He put the light out worn out and promptly fell asleep.


	40. Chapter 40

Cal could hear voices in his half asleep state. He wished he was more asleep than awake but because he was aware of the fact that he could hear voices he woke even more to the point that he knew he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep again. Besides, he needed the bathroom. And he couldn't hold it. He was going to have to go now. Shouldn't have had that water before going to sleep. So he sat up, forcing his eyes open. The sun was already streaming into the curtains, searching for those little gaps in the defence to pour through. The guest room got morning sun but was angled away from the afternoon.

Cal pulled back his door and shuffled down the hallway. He could hear voices in the kitchen, the high pitched loud timbre of Lewis and the calmer more even tone of Gillian. While Cal used the toilet he wondered if this was what domesticity sounded like. With Zoe it had always been a mad rush out the door in the morning. Cal wasn't entirely a morning person and neither was Zoe. Emily was often late for school on their watch. It was funny, Cal had only really got his shit together once he had Emily on the weekends. His only school run was a Monday morning; they had never been late, never forgotten homework, always had a clean uniform and a lunch packed. And yet if he had, got his shit together, his marriage might not have exploded. And if that hadn't happened, would he be here right now? With Gillian? And his son? Which did he prefer?  
>Cal shuffled into the kitchen. Lewis was eating at the kitchen table, his back to the door. Gillian was making sandwiches at the bench. She gave him a smile when he came in. "Good morning."<p>

Cal stared at her for a moment, his heart leapt into his throat. Had he really just instigated some sort of 'sex-free' agreement with her? She was stunning. "Mornin'," he mumbled a response.

"There's coffee," Gillian gestured over her shoulder to the coffee pot.

Cal crossed the room slowly and a little unsteadily, but considering he was ignoring his cane, he really wasn't doing so badly. He got to the counter and realised he couldn't remember which cupboard the mugs were kept in. He attempted one and found cookery books. He shifted to the other side of the range and tried again. This time he found them.

Gillian heard the cupboards open and close a couple of times and felt her stomach sink a little. This was taking more getting used to than either of them thought it would. She could tell. Cal wasn't entirely comfortable in the house and that was probably because it very much felt like a house to him and not his home. But she didn't know how to get around that just yet. She was fresh out of ideas. Perhaps she should call Casey. _'Or maybe just try talking to Cal, your husband,'_ she told herself.

"Emily's going to come by later to take you to physical therapy," Gillian broke the silence.

Lewis turned his head suddenly. "Hi Dad!" He waved with a smile from where he sat; puppy dog blue eyes.

"Hi," Cal gave a half hearted lift of his hand in response. Had it really taken Lewis all that time to notice he was in the room?

"I have to deal with something at work," Gillian went on.

"What is it?" Cal asked, realising they hadn't talked about the Group. He assumed it was still standing. Or when Gillian said she was going to 'work' was she really heading off to somewhere else?

"It's a staff problem," Gillian told him with one of those 'don't worry about it' tones.

"Is the Lightman Group still…" Cal started.

Gillian looked a little startled but covered it quickly. "Yeah of course. Stronger than ever."

Cal nodded and sipped his drink. Gillian went to the fridge to grab cheese for Lewis's sandwich and came back with the milk. She gave it to Cal, who was surprised that she knew his coffee habits. While he poured he rationalised that he shouldn't be. They had been living together for how long? Actually that was a good question. How long _had_ they been living together?

"But I'll be home later in the afternoon when I get Lewis from day care."

"Right," Cal responded. "And then you're goin' back to work?" She did a lot of running around. He should help out with that. Shouldn't he?

"Well, no, I can't really take Lewis to the office. He's too much of a distraction now that he's older."

"Well," Cal sipped his coffee. Was he really going to do this? "I'll be here. You could just leave him if you need to."

Gillian looked up at him from her work. "It would be a huge help," she started cautiously. "But don't feel you have to."

"Course not," Cal waved his hand in dismissal. He actually felt a surge of usefulness.

"You don't have to run around after him. Just use the electronic babysitter."

Cal was confused.

"The TV," Gillian clarified.

"Oh." He gave a shrug, "I'm sure we can find somethin' to do."

Was it weird she was asking him to babysit his own kid? Yes. It reminded him far too much of the years following his first divorce (when every chance to see Emily was mentally kept in tally) and it highlighted the fact that she didn't think he would just automatically be with their son. That was strange and it kind of revealed a lot that warranted quite a bit more serious thought. He just had to remember to think about it, instead of letting himself procrastinate with other avenues of investigation, like text messages from his daughter (but at least with that now out of the way there was nothing but Gillian left in his phone to go through).

"I'd really appreciate that," Gillian looked relieved.

"Sure," Cal responded more confidently. "Not a problem."

After they left Cal got back into bed with his phone. He had a new plan and hopefully he remembered this one long enough to make some headway on it. He needed to sort out his marriage, he needed to sort out his son and then everything else after that. His physical recovery was already well under way. Now he should really put some effort into the emotional side of things. So that meant Gillian. And Lewis.

The sheer volume of messages Gillian had sent Cal was daunting. He scrolled through them at first, thinking he might just go back a few months and read from there, but after pages and pages had gone by and barely a calendar week had passed he realised he was going to need a different plan of attack. It could quite possibly take him days to get through all the messages. Why the hell had he kept them all? Surely they were not all significant? There must be messages there that were simply about picking milk up on his way home right? Cal went back to the last message received. It was dated May the twelfth. The date triggered a spark and he remembered that that was their wedding anniversary and also the day he had had the accident (and oh, he meant to say something about that to Gillian but he had forgotten). He opened the message with heightened interest.

**LUV U CAL. GLAD WEVE HAD 6 YEARS. LOOKIN 4WD 6 THE NEXT 5 EVEN MORE.**

**PJ**

Emily knocked on the front door and stepped back to wait a moment. When there was no response she knocked again, then fished her key off her chain to let herself in. Just as she was preparing to disable the lock it twisted from the other side and her father stood before her looking dishevelled. "What took so long?"

"Geeze," he grumped. "Give me a bloody minute. I don't exactly move as quick as I used to."

"Ok sorry," Emily retorted, matching his tone but feeling badly for her first reaction. "I was worried that's all."

"What's gonna happen to me?" Cal shot back.

"Nothing," Emily told him in a small voice. No, he wasn't likely to fall off scaffolding inside the house and hit his head but it wasn't so long ago he was unconscious. And then there were the seizures (which seemed to have stopped thank god). And to be honest, he didn't really look so good right now. She followed him to the doorway of the guest room where he was set up. "Are you ready to go?"

"I'm in my bloody pyjamas," Cal's tone was sharp.

"Ok well I wasn't sure," Emily told him on the defensive yet again. "Are you ok? You kind of look weird."

"Thanks a lot," Cal answered dryly.

"Well…" Emily tried again and then realised she hadn't exactly rushed over to see him as soon as he had got out of the rehab facility. She didn't want to overwhelm him and that was what Gillian kept stressing to her: Don't overwhelm him. Give him a chance to adjust. "I just mean, did you sleep ok last night? You look tired."

Cal looked up at her from his perch on the bed. It was unmade and there were clothes strewn across a chair in the corner. He seemed so small and defeated sitting there that Emily was compelled to cross over to him and take a seat beside him on the mattress. Cal looked over at her now. He gave a little sigh. "I just get tired sometimes is all."

Emily nodded. She understood and she didn't care. If he needed a few extra seconds to get to the door that didn't really matter did it?

"Can I ask you somethin'?" Cal went on.

"Sure," Emily gave him a reassuring smile.

"Is Lewis my son?"

Emily was surprised by the question. "Yeah of course he is."

"It's just cos," Cal brought his phone up and flicked quickly through the menu on the screen. He showed her a picture of Lewis and the message from Gillian underneath.

Emily wondered what he meant by it. And then she clicked. "It's a game," she explained. "Gillian thinks Lewis is more like you and you think he's more like her so you constantly niggle away trying to prove the argument. She wasn't trying to imply he wasn't yours."

"But he _is_ mine and Gillian's," Cal asked again.

"Yes."

"Biologically."

"Yes," Emily was more emphatic again. She fought down the urge to laugh at him for being silly but his face was so sincere and she supposed his entire life must be incredibly confusing right now. How did he even know if Lewis was his son? It wasn't like he remembered the IVF or anything. "Lewis is totally your kid Dad," Emily told him, giving his arm a squeeze. "Take one look at him and you'd have to know he's yours. And Gillian's," she added.

Cal nodded. "Yeah," he seemed to agree or perhaps he was just placating her.

Emily stood. "So you're going to get dressed? We need to go soon."

"Yeah," Cal nodded.

Emily hovered for a second. Should she offer to help? Did he need help? Or was that just going to be completely degrading of her to imply he couldn't dress himself? It would be, she decided. She told him she'd wait in the kitchen and headed down the hallway. For want of something to do, she tided up the kitchen a little, emptying the clean dishes from the dishwasher and putting them away. She studied Lewis's latest creation on the fridge and smiled.

"Quite the artist," Cal noted as he came in.

Emily turned to him. "Yeah isn't he?" She gushed.

"So were you at that age," Cal pulled a jersey over his head. "You were takin' art in school. Did you give it up or keep goin'?"

"I kind of gave it up," Emily admitted, hiding the fact that he had brought up such an old and already handled subject. This was probably what Gillian dealt with everyday. And she had such a rich and intense history with Cal that was now gone. At least Emily still had her entire childhood to lean on; it wasn't entirely like looking at a stranger.

"Oh," Cal responded.

"Shall we go?" Emily swiftly changed the subject.

"Always in a rush to boss me around."

"Well, the sooner you get rehab over with the better," Emily told him firmly. The sooner the better, the sooner things could go back to normal.

"Right," Cal answered glumly. He turned and Emily followed him to the door wondering again if he was ok and whether she should ask him. Or maybe she should just tell Gillian and let her deal with it. Cal wasn't exactly Emily's responsibility to keep tabs on anymore. But she also didn't want to feel like she was ratting him out. He already talked about feeling like he was out numbered. Didn't he need at least one person on his side?

**PJ**

Emily pulled into the hospital car park. The ride over had been mostly in silence. Cal seemed completely absorbed by his surroundings. His head shifted around a lot as they drove, taking in the new buildings. Emily focussed on the road. When the car stopped at their destination she turned to her father. "Ok?" She asked him.

"Yeah fine," he responded reaching for his seat belt.

Emily wondered if she should ask if he wanted her to go in with him but something held her back and it was probably more to do with respecting him as her father than anything else. That hadn't changed. Despite everything. She knew him. That was important. "So Gillian's going to pick you up," Emily reminded him.

"Oh right," Cal answered preparing to get out.

"Have a good day Dad."

"You too darlin'," he leaned over to give her cheek a kiss. "Thanks for the ride."

She gave him a brilliant smile and watched him climb out of the car. Slowly. He was usually so energetic. This was worse than the cancer scare. Sure, he had been wasted after the surgery and then there was the shock of facing his own mortality (and the shock for everyone else having to face his mortality). But this was different. He didn't even really comprehend, nor did anyone else, just exactly what they all had come so close to losing.


	41. Chapter 41

_AN: strong language._

**PJ**

Gillian followed Lewis down the short hallway. He raced ahead, turning left and continuing to run down the corridor. Gillian went for the right, heading for Cal's room. The door was pushed almost closed and she gave it a slight tap. Then she hesitated. Should she push it open and go in, or wait for him to answer? She pushed on the door. Cal was sitting up on the bed and it looked like he was in the process of getting up to answer her knock. "Hey," Gillian greeted him lightly.

"Hi," he responded.

"How was your morning?"

"Fine."

"That's good," Gillian didn't respond to his nonchalant tone. "How was physical therapy?"

"Fine," Cal repeated a little more firmly this time.

Gillian nodded. "Ok so I'm gonna head off again."

"Right," Cal agreed.

"Are you sure you're ok with this?"

"It's fine," he dismissed.

Gillian gave another nod and reluctantly backed out of the room, pulling the door almost closed behind her. She went to find Lewis who had turned the TV on. She told him she was leaving now and asked him to be a good boy for Dad. Lewis nodded he would. Gillian gave him a kiss and went back to her car, a sense of dread in her stomach. She told herself she was being stupid. Cal was his father and there was no reason why she should worry. It wasn't like leaving Lewis with a stranger.

**PJ**

After Cal heard Gillian's car start and the garage door fall back into place, he got back into bed. There were still a million text messages from his wife to go through. They were all the same; either completely business like – asking him to get milk or dinner or how long was he going to be before he got back to the office – or were so flirtatious he actually felt a stir in his groin with picturing him doing some of the things Gillian actually implied he do to her. He wondered if they did, or whether they were mere suggestions. Cal figured he must have spent half an hour reading away before he became aware of small fingers around the edge of the door. It opened very slowly and he waited patiently for the little boy to show his face. Eventually he peered around the edge of the barrier. He studied Cal for a moment.

"Come in," Cal called to him. Lewis suddenly ran off. With a sigh, Cal got up slowly to go after him.

**PJ**

When Gillian got home she found Lewis still watching TV and Cal sitting at the kitchen table, going through his phone. She flushed warm as she suddenly remembered all those messages they had exchanged over the years (thank god she had absolutely flat out refused to ever send him lewd pictures of her anatomy, just the occasional finger when he was pissing her off). She wondered how many of them he had kept, and knowing how he was with the dirtier comments, he had probably kept a lot of them. Now they were way out of context. "How'd it go?" She asked him, putting her bag down on the breakfast bar.

"Fine," he looked up and gave her a forced smile. It was quick and didn't reach his eyes. She asked him if was hungry, she would start dinner soon. "Sure," Cal gave a slight shrug to show he wasn't bothered.

"Mum!" Lewis climbed over the back of the couch. He raced towards her and wrapped his arms around her hips. "I missed you."

Gillian gave a slight laugh. It was the warmest reception she had received in a very long time. "Did you?" She bent at the waist to hug him back. She asked him what he had done that afternoon and he gave a shrug, finger-spelling 'TV' but not giving her a verbal answer. "Cool," Gillian told him enthusiastically. "Would you like to help me with dinner?" Lewis nodded vigorously. Gillian lifted him to the bench, next to the sink, so he could wash his hands, which he did dutifully without prompting, while Gillian picked items out of the fridge to put together a meal. Cal continued to sit at the table.

**PJ**

"Ok goodnight," Gillian told Lewis in a normal tone of voice.

"Night Mum," he stage-whispered back.

Gillian went to her son's bedroom door and pulled it almost closed. She went to her bedroom and changed into her pyjamas, then went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She studied herself in the mirror. She looked tired. Perpetually tired at the moment, even though she was sleeping much better. At least with Cal under the same roof as she was, she felt immeasurably more relaxed than before, even if it was still bloody awkward. Gillian rinsed out her mouth and wiped it dry, then turned and hit the light on her way out. She sat up in bed with a book, the blanket over her knees. She had barely found her place when she was aware of her bedroom door opening slowly. It set her heart on edge until she realised it was Lewis.

"What are you doing?" She asked him, her face in clear question.

Lewis took a few tentative steps into the room, then ran across it to jump on the bed and crawl his way over to her. "Cuddles," he explained.

"You had cuddles," Gillian told him, discarding her book and enveloping him in her lap anyway. He curled up into a small bundle.

"Extra cuddles," he told her.

"Hmm," Gillian responded, more to herself than him. He probably hadn't heard that. She gave him a squeeze and started to try and extricate him but he clung on tighter, desperately and she hesitated for a minute. She rubbed his back and kissed the top of his head. He smelt like shampoo. "It's bedtime," she reminded him gently, feeling the warmth of his body seep through her skin to her heart.

Lewis let her shift him this time. He slid to the floor and waited for Gillian to climb off the mattress and take his hand. They walked in silence back to his room. He climbed into his bed without objection and beneath the t-rex sheets. Gillian leaned down to give him a kiss. He clung on to her neck and wouldn't let go.

"Daddy's different," he blurted.

Gillian felt her skin suddenly go cold. She forcibly removed Lewis's arms from her neck, but gently, so she wouldn't hurt him or have him think she was angry or shocked by what he had said. She sat on the bed next to him and he looked up at her with wide eyes, the shape of hers but the colour of his father's. "Yes Daddy is different." She signed the simple sentence. 'Yes' nodding her fist up and down; 'Daddy' an open five hand against her forehead; 'Different' her index fingers crossed in front of her chest then moving away to opposite directions. "Remember? He hurt his head. He's still getting better."

'Remember' was her right thumb extended from a fist, pressed against the top of her head, then brought down to meet the extended thumb of her left hand, also in a fist, but down by her waist (she had recently looked it up considering Cal's condition). 'Hurt' her right fist punched against her left index finger; 'head' was simply pointing to it. Her tone was gently as she signed, probably getting lost in the frequencies Lewis couldn't hear, but he could see her hands and her face quite clearly through the light spilling from the hallway.

Lewis nodded. But he didn't look appeased. In fact, he looked like he might cry. Gillian gestured for him to move over and he did so quickly, eagerly. She lay down next to him, and put an arm around his small frame. "He'll get better," she signed to him and wondered if that was a promise or merely a wish. The truth was, she didn't know. "Ok?"

Lewis nodded again. He did look a little more certain this time. Gillian gave him another lengthy cuddle (several long minutes worth), then a kiss before sitting up again. She reminded him it was bedtime and that he needed to go to sleep. She went to the door again, pulling it almost closed. Lewis already had his eyes shut. From there, Gillian headed straight downstairs. She knocked on Cal's bedroom door and pushed it open. "Hi," she greeted in a low voice. He was in bed, propped up against the headboard, writing in his notebook.

"Hi," he responded.

"I'm going to go to bed now, so, goodnight." She didn't plan on hovering. She had merely come down to tell him she was putting the lights out. Lewis had cut into her relaxing/reading time and now she needed to also go to sleep and perhaps she was a little influenced by the hurt on Lewis's face. Cal could try with him couldn't he? It wouldn't kill him.

"Stay," Cal called out. "For a little bit," he offered to her surprised expression.

Gillian hesitated for about a fifth of a second (she was a sucker for him after all) before crossing the room and climbing over his legs to get under the covers next to him (she needed cuddles just like Lewis did). Cal hadn't quite been expecting that but he went with it. If she wanted to be close to him he wasn't going to object to that. He closed his notebook and set it on the bedside table. He slid further down the mattress so he was lying face to face with his wife. "Lewis in bed then?" Cal surmised.

"Yeah."

"Is it nearly your bed time?"

"Yeah nearly," Gillian responded with a smile. "Did you have fun with Lewis today?"

"He just watched TV mostly."

"You didn't hang out?" She asked neutrally.

"Nope."

Gillian considered this for a moment. Considered how best to suggest he did hang out with Lewis next time.

"This isn't our first place togetha," Cal started suddenly.

"No," Gillian seemed surprised.

"How come we moved again?"

"We wanted a change."

"And, so did we live at my house before this?"

He meant the house he and Zoe had bought and Gillian understood this. So he had successfully changed the subject and distracted her from the empathy she had felt on behalf of Lewis. "No we had another house."

"So when we moved in togetha," Cal finally strung his train of thought coherently for her to see. "You didn't move in with me?"

"No we bought a place together."

"When was that?" Cal asked. "I mean, when in the timeline of us bein' togetha was that?"

"Um, it was, about a year after we had started dating."

Cal regarded her with interest. But Gillian didn't elaborate and it seemed he had no other questions on that subject. "Teach me to sign," he opted for a new one. They had never been strangers to a good comfortable silence but recently he found he wanted her to talk to him as much as possible.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that," Gillian gave a slight frown. "I'll get the books out for you. And a few really good websites."

"I'd need a computa for those."  
>"Sure well, your laptop is at the office. I'll bring it home for you."<p>

"Or I could come and get it," Cal suggested. Gillian seemed affronted by that suggestion. "I wouldn't mind settin' foot in my own business."

"Yeah I can appreciate that..." And then she stopped short. She didn't think it was a good idea but she curbed her desire to tell him that, verbally; surely he could tell obviously enough how she really felt about that.

"Soon," Cal suggested. "Maybe not tomorrow. But soon."

"Sure," Gillian agreed readily. "Soon."

He watched her for a moment. "Are you waitin' for things to go back to normal?"

Gillian took a second to prepare her answer to that. "I don't know," she admitted truthfully.

"What if they never do?"

Gillian was silent for a moment. "Then we'll deal with that."

"I'm scared."

Her face immediately went to concerned and her hand came up to caress his face. Lewis was well and truly forgotten in the face of that. "Scared of what?" She asked gently.

"I'm scared it will neva go back to normal."

She was silent for a moment, her features pulled into sympathy. But she didn't say anything to that and Cal had to appreciate that she didn't try to install a false sense of hope; she didn't lie to him.

"I'm scared I won't eva know what normal is."

"I'll help you," she whispered and then she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss against his lips. Cal's hand came up to her arm, anchoring himself against her. Gillian pressed her lips a little more firmly. It was Cal who deepened the kiss. Her scent washed over him and he found he just couldn't help it. Gillian shifted so her body was closer to his and turned him slightly so he was back on his shoulder. Cal's hand shifted to her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin through the thin material. He let his tongue flicker along her bottom lip and she opened her mouth instantaneously to caress his mouth with her own. A groan escaped out of Cal and he felt blood rushing to his groin. It was a hell of a kiss and it was barely over before the next one began. Cal, emboldened, let his hand trail down over her hip. Gillian rocked into him gently.

It got out of control very quickly. Hands were suddenly beneath clothing and then beneath underwear and Gillian was pulling him towards her. Cal's heart pounded and it was hot and sweaty and frantic. He was desperate for her and she seemed just as hungry for him. She gave a guttural kind of cry as he pushed into her and the sensation of her and the sound of her had his arms quivering with anxiety. He suddenly had a lot to live up to. She had expectations. Especially after last time. And it wasn't like he could just shag her and let it go. This was his wife. His wife that he hadn't even managed to make love to properly yet and here they were acting like horny teenagers.

Cal felt blood start to move in the other direction and he panicked, which just made the situation worse. Gillian's eyes came open and she looked up at him, a mixture of concern, surprise and disappointment. Cal just stared back, willing his body to react the way he wanted it to, trying to reverse the damage and failing miserably. Gillian gave a little sigh, a slight and silent 'no' as he pulled away from her.

"Are you ok?"

"No I'm not fuckin' ok!" Cal shot back gruffly.


	42. Chapter 42

_AN: strong language_

**PJ**

"Ok," Gillian responded carefully. "I was just asking."

"And I'm fuckin' ova everyone askin' me all the bloody time if I'm all right!" Cal exploded. "I'm not all right, all right? I fuckin' hit my head and I can't rememba how old I am, let alone my bloody address and I can't even shag my wife." He shifted roughly to sit up against the head of the bed.

Gillian lay silently. Her heart pounded and not in a good way.

"I don't even rememba agreein' to marry you," Cal added distastefully, fussing with the covers over his lap.

'_Ouch_.'

Gillian sat up suddenly, "I'm going to go to bed."

"Yeah go on then," Cal responded dismissively.

Gillian turned back to him. "You're clearly agitated. We can talk in the morning."

"Except we don't talk!" Cal shot back. "We talked about talkin' and yet we're not talkin'."

Gillian gave him a frown, frozen where she was, leaning on one elbow, facing him on the bed. "We talk."

"No we talk but we don't _talk_ talk," Cal tried to explain exasperatedly.

"Well what do you want to talk about?" Gillian shot back at him, feeling a surge of the frustration she had been trying to suppress for too long.

"Everythin'!" Cal cried. "Fuck I don't know! Don't you undastand, I'm lost?"

"Don't you understand I'm also lost?" Gillian threw back feeling a flash of tears.

"Yeah like what you're goin' through compares to what I'm goin' through," Cal sneered.

A flare of bright hot anger made Gillian lash back. "I'm not doing this with you," she told him sharply, shifting awkwardly under the covers to pull her pyjama bottoms back over her hips. "Not again. You don't want to be married. Fine. You don't want to be in Lewis's life. Fine." She hesitated slightly. She didn't mean that last one. "But," she forced herself to go on. "I won't have you treating him with indifference. You're either in or you're out. It's your choice. But if you're in, then you better start acting like you give a damn." She threw back the covers and stalked around the bed. "When you figure that out, you let me know," she shot at him before slamming the door shut on her way out.

She immediately felt terrible. This was the second time they had done this. It wasn't effective communication and it didn't lead to any great revelations. If anything, it just highlighted the fact that they were stuck in a revolving door of distorted feelings and confusion. Cal was frustrated and restricted by physical and mental limitations outside of his control. So was Gillian, by the same restrictions. Cal was trapped and Gillian was in the same position by proxy. She knew telling him everything would drive him away and yet by not telling him as much as he wanted, she was also forcing the tension between them. Once again she thought of the balance they needed but were not achieving. She thought once more about being stretched too thin. And as she climbed under the covers of her own bed, alone, cold and shaking in reaction to either, she thought she was going to have to do something about it before she lost Cal for good.

**PJ**

Cal woke to the sound of voices. His bedroom wall backed on to the kitchen. At night the extractor fan dominated, in the morning, it was the mumble of Gillian's voice. Cal felt his stomach tighten. This was going to be a very awkward morning. He sighed as he rolled over. Really bloody awkward. But he had to face her and staying up all night thinking (or more accurately, simply being unable to sleep because it kept rolling around and around in his mind) had afforded him the chance to put together a solution of some sort. It wasn't perfect but he saw no other way and at least he had a plan. Right? A plan was better than no plan. Right? One thing was abundantly clear to him, he could not go on as he had; they could not go on as they were. If he wanted to stay married to Gillian he was going to have to take action. At least last night had shown him the path he was currently on was only heading towards disaster. That was, at least, something, when he felt like he had nothing.

Cal pushed back the covers and sat up. He still smelt a little like Gillian and it simultaneously was delightful and horrendous. Last night was far too fresh on his mind. He was failing and he hated to not excel at anything he tried his hand at. It meant he wasn't trying hard enough. And he sure as shit was not going to accept defeat. Certainly not over this. He pushed himself to his feet, taking the time to make sure he was steady before attempting to walk to the door. It felt incredibly heavy as he pulled it open. A month ago that would have been because of his reduced muscle mass. Now it was simply heavy with dread.

The voices were louder now he was in the hallway. Cal could hear Gillian telling Lewis to get his bag, it was time to go and he realised with a start that it must be a lot later in the morning than he thought. Clearly the voices had not disturbed him as much as he thought they did. He reached the kitchen doorway. There were doors on sliders that receded beside the wall but they had so far always been open. They were open now and Cal hung back as he heard Gillian telling Lewis he was a good boy and to get in the car. He was a good boy, Cal thought to himself. Considering everything he had gone through. What with his father being a complete dickhead at the moment and his family disrupted.

"Oh."

Cal looked up suddenly. Gillian was standing before him, startled, one hand protectively on her son's shoulder. Lewis looked up at him with wide eyes. "Mornin'," he opened with.

"Good morning," Gillian replied. She tapped Lewis's shoulder and he tilted his head back to look up at her. "Go get in the car honey," she imitated holding on to a steering wheel. Lewis nodded and stepped around his father. Cal could hear the soft tap of his backpack against his back as he receded. He also noted Gillian didn't have her purse in her hand, which meant he had a minute to talk to her before she disappeared for the day.

"Can we talk?" Cal asked her as she ducked away from him, back into the kitchen. He moved to stand in the doorway. That way she really wouldn't be able to avoid him.

"I have to go," Gillian told him amicably. "We're running late this morning."

"Just a minute," Cal pressed feeling a horrible distaste in the back of his throat. He knew what he was about to say would kill her. He didn't want to do it. But he had to. '_You have to_,' he told himself as if he needed convincing. He did.

Gillian slung her purse of her shoulder, her car keys rattled in her hand. She shook back the hair from her face, setting her chin high, giving him her attention, but also showing him that she was not going to be bothered by whatever it was that he had to say. She was not going to let him get to her. Cal didn't know whether that was a good thing. In light of what he had to say.

"I'm gonna move out," he told her in a quiet voice. God he felt like such a bastard. The pain flashed over her face so quickly Cal didn't see it. He merely guessed what the flicker of her facial muscles was. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out and he watched as she slowly crumbled. Her shoulders drooped slightly, her grip tightened on her bag while simultaneously loosening on her keys so they slipped a little. Her chin lost some of its height and the brightness of her eyes dimmed. Cal felt like he had been sucker punched in the gut for her and he felt an overwhelming urge to rush to her side to comfort her. He had no idea where it came from, but suspected it was the old Cal trying to rear his ugly little head.

"Just for a little while," he added meekly as if that were going to soften the blow.

Gillian's gaze shifted very briefly to the floor and then she was back, steely again, and so hard to read. "When?"

"Today."

"Where are you going to go?" Her tone was neutral. Careful. Closed off.

"A motel or somethin'."

She nodded. "Have you got your credit card?"

"Yeah," Cal almost sighed.

"Well if you want a ride."

"I'll get a taxi. Go while you're at work."

Fuck he was such a coward. Such a lowly bastard coward who was running away from his wife and his life because he couldn't cope with it all. It was a bump on the head. He had dealt with worse. He had survived war zones and beatings and apparently a stabbing (Gillian had explained the light scar on his forearm). He'd had surgery (head and appendix and throat) and car accidents (mostly when he was young and stupid). He'd survived his mother's suicide and a divorce. But why was it anything to do with Gillian was so hard? She left him so confused and unsure of himself and vulnerable. She unsettled him like nothing else ever had in his life. He should really pay attention to that shouldn't he?

"Ok," Gillian replied simply. "If that's what you want," she stepped purposefully towards him. She hesitated in front of him, waiting for him to move one way or the other to let her by.

'_That's it?_' Cal thought in disbelief. Was she not going to fight for him? He felt a wave of panic. Or should he just be grateful she was going to let him go and he didn't have to go into why he was going when he really wasn't even sure of the reasoning himself. Not yet anyway. Had he really messed it up beyond repair? Was she relieved he was going? Because it saved her from having to call it to an end herself. Or was he just over thinking it and his first assessment was correct: she was devastated and trying to hide it.

"We could talk late-a," Cal tried.

Gillian glanced at him briefly. She flashed a false smile. "Sure. Whatever you want," and then she just brushed past him and headed down the hall. Cal watched her go. It wasn't like he could run after her, grab her arm, and force her to stop, to react. He heard the car door, the garage door, the car engine, and then nothing but silence.


	43. Chapter 43

"You're making great progress!"

Cal felt worse. The look in Gillian's eye as she had brushed past him. He had really screwed things up. If he hadn't before that morning, then he certainly had now. He thought giving them some proper space would be a good thing. He thought she might have begged for him to stay. Sometimes he needed a little distance to see. Why didn't she fight for him? He gave Adam a slight nod of acknowledgement. Sure, he might be steadier on his feet, but it was little comfort to him right now.

"Everything ok?" Adam asked him, coming closer.

"Fine," Cal responded.

"If you're tired we can take a short break."

"I'm fine," Cal repeated.

"You don't have to push yourself."

"I'm _fine_," Cal ground out. Funny how when he was dragging his heels Adam pushed him like crazy and now...

"How're things going at home?" Adam asked casually as he watched Cal lift leg weights through another set.

"Fine."

"I haven't seen Gillian in a while."

'_And you probably won't_,' Cal thought miserably. His chest felt like it was opening up and his heart was about to fall out. And that wasn't him, that was the old Cal.

"She must be busy," Adam went on.

"Yeah she is," Cal agreed. Which was true. She was busy. She seemed very busy anyway, always rushing on to the next thing. He wasn't surprised she didn't have time for him. All right that wasn't fair. She did make time for him. She just didn't have time for hand holding and molly coddling and for him feeling sorry for himself. She had a four year old she was basically running around after single handed, while also making sure their business didn't fall apart, and when she wasn't doing that she was making sure Cal was organised and trying to hold his hand the best she could. She just wanted to make sure he was ok and every time she did he just snapped at her. It wasn't her fault a million people a day asked him if he was all right.

"Why don't we call it early today?" Adam suggested.

"Sure," Cal agreed but he didn't feel pleased. Because now he had to go and do some explaining. Well, first, he had a little bit of research to do, then he had some explaining to do.

**PJ**

Gillian entered the Lightman Group building checking her watch. She was a little late but that didn't matter too much. It was her own personal timetable she was letting down, she didn't have a meeting she was supposed to keep. She powered past Cal's name on the wall, lit up in its neon blue and into her own personal office. She put her purse down on her desk and powered up her computer and when she finally sat and stopped moving it struck her. Cal was moving out. He was leaving her. Grief squeezed her stomach tightly until it felt like she couldn't breathe. But no tears formed. Perhaps at this point she was all cried out?

Surely after last night he wouldn't be so repulsed by her? Yes, it was their second disastrous attempt at sex since the accident (which was bordering on three months ago now) but he had actually gotten off the first time, so surely it wasn't because she wasn't good... or satisfying. She wasn't crap in bed and he'd never told her was she? They had great sex normally. Fantastic, mind blowing, the best. _He_ told her that. She was the best he'd ever had. He wasn't bored with their sex life. He still wanted her after six years of marriage. Just as much as the night they had first made love together. Those were his words. So where had she gone wrong?

**PJ**

Cal got a taxi back to the house and somehow felt like he was breaking in as he pushed the front door open. He half expected to hear the chirp of an alarm, or the warning bark of a dog he didn't know about; some indication he had been busted. But of course there was no such thing. It was just his guilt and imagination getting together to unnerve him. He closed the door again and went to his room, moving purposefully like he was on a deadline. He found a bag in the wardrobe and packed it with his clothes and underwear. He made his way slowly upstairs to grab his toothbrush and shampoo. While he was up there, and feeling even more clandestine than before, he went to his bedside dresser and opened it, wondering if there was an address book or perhaps business cards. There were a few books, a spare set of his glasses, and a bookmark. Cal went around to the other side of the bed and went through that too. It was clearly Gillian's side, based on the book titles, assorted jewellery and pack of tissues. But aside from satisfying some sort of nosey need, Cal didn't find anything of interest, certainly not anything that he thought might jog his memory.

Then he thought about a tube of toothpaste. He went to the bathroom and pulled open the vanity cupboards. He grabbed a spare tube and hoped Gillian wouldn't mind too much. While he was at it he found his drawer (the middle one) and took his razor and shaving foam. It had been several weeks after all and he was nearing the itchy stage. Wait a minute, Cal pulled open the top drawer again. There was a child safety catch on this one as well but even in that brief gap it allowed a small medicine bottle had caught Cal's eye. Perhaps it was sixth sense, perhaps he was just feeling particularly meddlesome and in the dark, but he wanted to see what it was. What medications was Gillian taking?

Cal held up the label close to his eyes to see. Lexapro. Take once daily as needed. The prescription was written by Dr. Gimmel. Cal didn't know any Gimmel's. She was taking anti-depressants? Wasn't he the one who was supposed to be sick? He checked the date. June. This year. So she hadn't been on them long. Probably since the accident. Did that bring him some comfort? That their marriage hadn't caused her to be depressed, but, no, his accident had. God he was such an asshole telling her he was moving out! He shouldn't have done it like that. He should have waited, told her at the end of the day when they could sit down and they could talk and he could explain. Except, he still didn't know how to explain. The bottle felt pretty full. Cal popped the cap and counted out the tablets. She hadn't taken any. Why not? And why did he feel so relieved?

Cal put the little brown bottle back where he had found it and closed the drawers. He headed back to the bedroom suddenly feeling exhausted. He sat on the end of the bed. He looked around the silent and sun flooded room. It was warm in there and he could imagine Gillian sitting on the bed in the light of the sun, reading. The sun would make her hair glow. And when she found something sweet or silly in her books she would have a little smile on her lips that made Cal want to crawl up next to her and share in her carefree-ness. Cal blinked. The image was suddenly gone. Had he just remembered that? His heart was pounding.

He got up again and slowly made his way to the door. He leaned heavily on the railing as he went down the stairs and into the kitchen for some water. On the edge of the bench were a few books and a post it note and Cal noticed his name straight away. He picked up the message.

_Hey, finally got around to them. Sorry for the delay. Talk when I get home? G x_

She had clearly written it that morning, before Cal had even got out of bed, thinking he was sleeping in and she wouldn't see him until later. The books were on American Sign Language. Inside the top of the first book was a brochure with a contact number for a teacher. Gillian had written two websites at the top. Cal put the books down again. He didn't know how to feel. All messed up was what he was feeling, but in his head, the only logical thought that got through, was that he needed a drink of water. As he sipped back the cool liquid it occurred to him that Gillian was trying. She was trying in her own way. She wasn't smothering him (which was what he expected and maybe also what contributed to the confusion) and yet by not doing that she was almost taking too much of a back seat. So then how did he end up feeling claustrophobic anyway?

When the water didn't help to still the dizzy feeling Cal had in his head he figured his blood sugar was low from the work out that morning. He felt bad for it, like he was taking advantage, but he made himself something to eat all the same. He flicked through the sign language books. They seemed pretty straight forward but right now they looked like nothing but illustrated pig-latin to his befuddled brain. How as he going to learn something complex like this when he had a hard time with the logic of a simple su-do-ku?

Cal went back to his room, taking the books, toothbrush and paste, his shaving equipment, and stuffing them all into the top of his bag. He called for another taxi and while he waited he opened up the directory of his phone. There had to be a name in there that he was looking for. If he looked again, something was going to have to jump out at him, wasn't it? How else was he meant to know?

The toot of a horn startled him. He got up, taking his bag to the door. He locked it behind him and walked down to the waiting cab. And then he realised he didn't know where he wanted to go. He hadn't thought to look for a name nearby. A quick surge of anxiety washed over him. He hadn't planned where he was going to go. "The nearest motel," Cal told the driver.

"Fight with the wife then?" The cabbie asked him.

"My husband," Cal shot back. "He put up the most hideous curtains in the livin' room without even consultin' me."

The driver studiously focussed on the road as they drove away.

**PJ**

Gillian was composing a formal letter of dismissal when she heard a commotion in the hallway. She looked up through the glass walls of her office to find Cal holding court in the middle of the corridor. Her heart pounded with surprise and just the notion of seeing him. She started to get out of her chair and then stopped herself. She wasn't sure it was ok to just rush to his side anymore. She didn't know what that morning was supposed to mean and she wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. At the very least, she was trying not to freak out about it until they had talked. Cal's intentions weren't always very clear at the moment. She watched him for a moment. He looked uncomfortable and she recognised his very subtle cry for help from anyone who dared to pay close enough attention. He was drowning. With her mind firmly made up, Gillian pushed back from her desk and made her way into the hallway.

"Hi sweetie," she called to him as she approached, a smile on her face and the genuine pleasure she had actually felt a moment ago at seeing him back in the forefront of her demeanour.

"Hey," Cal flashed relief before he gave her what seemed to be a genuine smile. The noise around him died off.

"You're late," she told him coming to a standstill.

"Sorry," he gave her his best impish expression. "I got caught up."

"That's ok," she told him easily. She was aware of the eyes on them, the disappointment radiating from their employees who had been in the process of grilling Cal about how he was doing and, possibly, what he was doing there. "Your laptop is in your office," she turned slightly to indicate he should follow her. Cal stepped forward towards her, shooting an apology over his shoulder. Gillian told the gathering they could talk to him later. Then she walked with Cal down the hallway towards his office door, feeling her steps and heart getting heavier with each passing second. That kind of act drew on reserves she didn't have. She had no idea why he was there, no idea what she was meant to say, and certainly no idea how she was meant to react to his sudden appearance. She had herself convinced he was going to disappear for a few days. That 'moving out' meant he needed to get away from her. So what was he doing there?

They passed under the door way to his office and Gillian sped up her pace to get to his desk first. She picked up his laptop and put it in the case. She had actually intended to bring it home for him that evening but if he was there now why shouldn't he take it himself?

"Gill," Cal's quiet voice carried easily in the silent room.

Gillian looked up at him. He looked distraught. She felt a little bad for him, but mostly she felt confused by him. How could he stand there looking like he was upset when he was the one that was leaving?

"Can we talk?"

"I really can't. I'm in the middle of..." She hesitated. '_Dismissing someone_.' "Something important," she finished. It sounded like an excuse. It wasn't. Ok, it kind of was, but it was a good one and it was true.

"It's important," Cal gave her a sincere expression. He suddenly looked around his office as if seeing it for the first time. His gaze wandered back to hers. "I want to explain."

Gillian suppressed a sigh and the urge to yell at him for being a bastard and breaking her heart. "Shall we go and sit in my office?"

"Sure," he agreed easily.

Gillian slung his laptop bag over her shoulder and headed out through the study. Halfway across the hall she realised she had walked off and left him there. She could hear the irregular rhythm of his cane against the polished floors. She reached her office door and held it open for him, then bought herself some composition time while he moved to the couches against the far wall by putting his laptop on one of her guest chairs. When she turned Cal was sitting, waiting for her, in an arm chair. Gillian went to sit near him but on the couch. She reached behind her and flicked the blinds closed so no one could look in on them. She sensed this was going to be a very private conversation.


	44. Chapter 44

"I didn't hurt you did I?"

"No," Gillian responded indignantly. Cal found her wrist and lifted it up to inspect her flesh. The tie was still wrapped around her left arm. He pulled the safety and the knot dissolved quickly, falling away. Gillian watched him work, a little amused at how easy it had been to take apart after all.

"No ligature marks?" Cal inspected her skin. It was red from where she had rubbed it while pulling against the restraints but the skin was not raw, nor did it look particularly agitated beyond superficially.

"It's fine," Gillian told him.

Cal pushed her hair back from her face as she leaned down over him. "Was it?"

"It was fantastic," she told him with a serene smile.

Cal gave a grin in response to hers. "Thought I'd try somethin' different."

"I noticed," Gillian replied softly. She shifted so she was lying beside him. Cal sat up to pull the covers up and they repositioned so she was lying in his arm, her head on his shoulder. "How long were you planning that?" Gillian queried softly.

"Well, you said you wanted somethin' spicier and I certainly owed you a little revenge."

"Two birds one stone?" Gillian supplied.

"Exactly."

"Huh," she mused.

"Next time we do one of your fantasies."

Gillian didn't answer him.

"You do have fantasises right?" Cal was suddenly wary. What if he had pushed this too far? He didn't want her to be uncomfortable. They had a tried and true balance of power and he certainly didn't want to do anything to unsettle that now. Not after five years of marriage. Not when everything was going so smoothly at the moment.

"Hm," Gillian thought. "Not really."

"But you have to. I'll do anythin'."

"Well now that sounded like an open invitation."

"It was," Cal reiterated seriously. "You have to have somethin' you've always wanted to do. Want me to dress up?"

Gillian laughed lightly. "No."

"Surely you fantasise about somethin'?"

"Well mostly if I'm fantasising it's just about you," Gillian admitted.

Cal was silent for a moment. Then he suddenly turned so he could see her face. "That wasn't the first time you've been tied up is it?"

Gillian gave a slight shake of her head and tried to suppress a smile.

Cal's eyes lit up. "Details please."

Gillian sighed. "It was in college."

"I'm intrigued."

She gave him a slightly disparaging expression.

"Sorry," he immediately apologised. "I'm listenin'. Go ahead."

Gillian pulled the sheet up to her chin. "I was in college and the guy I was seeing kind of had a thing for handcuffs."

"Naughty," Cal responded.

"Yeah," Gillian agreed.

"Wait," Cal studied her face. "You're not connectin' with the memory. Was it not a good one?"

"No it was fine," Gillian answered honestly. "It's just that…" she paused and Cal waited for her to go on. "This one was better."

**PJ**

Cal didn't know where to start. There was no good place. There was no beginning to his explanation. It was all roundabout and muddled, just like his head, but he knew he had found some logic, and now it was simply about letting her see it too. Or letting her see his theory and hoping she was willing to go along with it so he could prove it. Cal swallowed heavily. The truth was he had no idea what he was doing. So he started with that. Gillian seemed surprised and she opened her mouth to object, or something, so Cal held up a hand to stop her. "Please, let me finish and then you can talk. I don't know what I'm doin' or what to say," he went on as if he had rehearsed this. "I just, it feels like the right thing to do. Havin' some space." Gillian gave a series of rapid blinks so Cal plunged on before she could either verbally object or start crying.

"Everythin's just so very ovawhelmin' at the moment." He could feel his heart pounding as he looked in to her eyes. '_I don't know where to start_.' And she wasn't helping him out. Which is what he wanted but which was also intimidating. "I'm sorry," Cal blurted. Gillian flickered surprise. "I'm sorry Gill for this mornin' I didn't really handle that very well. And I'm sorry for this," he gestured at his head.

"That's not your fault."

"I'm sorry it destroyed your life. I wish I rememba-ed, I really do. My life fell apart but the worst of it is that yours did too, and you _rememba_ it." Cal watched as her features tightened slightly and he wondered if he was suddenly able to read her again. "There's just too much expectation. That's why I have to go."

"There aren't expectations Cal," Gillian tried again.

"There are," Cal cut her off. "There are whetha you mean for them to be there or not. But there _are_ expectations and Lewis has _a lot_ of expectations," Cal pushed on, aware he was still rambling and not getting anywhere in particular. Here it looked like Gillian steeled herself a little. She was clearly very protective of her son. And so she should be. Cal couldn't fault her for that. "It's just that I can't live up to them anymore and I don't know which ones I should be."

This was it. This was the important bit.

"I need to start ova. I need to get to know him without so much pressure and I need to get to know you again as well. Cos in my mind you're still married to Alec. Or, you're just breakin' up. The fact that you and I are married is just too much right now. It doesn't seem real to me." Cal sensed Gillian was about to object once more so held up his hand to forestall it. "Because I don't have all those memories to put it into perspective. I'm not in love with you like you're in love with me."

A little fracture in Gillian's facade.

"Let me explain," Cal quickly continued. "I mean that I have one isolated memory of you in a red dress but you have every date, our first kiss, the day we moved in togetha, all those things. You have the process of fallin' in love and I've got this... nothin'."

"You said you love me," Gillian asked him in a small voice.

"Yes," Cal leaned forward to emphasise his sincerity. "I do. I do love you Gill. But I love you from a distance, like I have from the moment we met. Ugh," he groaned suddenly and sat back. "This is goin' terribly!"

"No, it's ok, go on," Gillian looked concerned. "I'm trying to understand."

"What I mean is," Cal tried again hating that his sharp mind had abandoned him in a pile of scaffolding. "I neva got the chance to fall in love with you. I neva got to learn the rules, the boundaries, the 'in-jokes', our song, or the places that are special to us, the words that are special to us, movies we laughed ova for bein' truly awful or... the moments when you were vulnerable, the moments when I was vulnerable and let you in. And I know I must have, cos we got married, and we're still married and that just blows my mind," his voice had taken on an urgent tone. He was imploring her to understand. This was a subject of intense interest to him. He had let her in, sure, he could accept that. But how and why? He didn't let people in. So why Gillian and how? How had they even fallen in love? It seemed impossible.

"Maybe leavin' isn't the right thing to do," Cal conceded. "But I don't know what else to do. I just know that bein' at home with you is..."

Gillian sat and watched him passively.

"Is," Cal searched for the right word. If his hard drive ran this slowly he'd have it replaced. Just saying. '_Don't say overwhelmin' again_,' he told himself. '_Come on. You're a masta of words. You can think of anotha one_.' "Too much," Cal settled on. '_Fail_.'

"Can I talk now?" Gillian asked neutrally.

Cal gestured that she should go ahead and felt a little pang of nerves. He had no idea what she was going to say to him. He expected her to tell him off. But she leaned forward and her expression softened. She took his hand. "I have no idea what to do either. We've tried my way. I think it would be fair to try your way."

Cal was surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "I mean, I'm not thrilled you're going. At all." And she stopped for a moment to let him see the pain. "But if you need to do some soul searching or find yourself again, then..."

'_Soul searching. That was betta than what you came up with_.'

"I wouldn't hold you back from that." She gave his fingers a squeeze. "Maybe you need to figure out who you are, as well as how you fit into this world." She looked around the room very briefly to indicate what 'world' encompassed exactly.

Cal nodded. This felt like something he had been trying to say too.

"Maybe get some independence back," Gillian added.

"Yes," Cal agreed. "Independence." That was it! He felt a sense of relief. It was all well and good being looked after but how was he meant to exercise his mind if Gillian reminded him of every appointment, every time table. He needed to learn to take care of himself again too.

"Ok?"

"So we're all right?" Cal double checked.

"Yes," Gillian agreed reluctantly and Cal knew she was hurting despite her determination to not let him see that. He couldn't see it, not unless she showed him, but somehow he knew anyway. She claimed she never lied to him. Well that was true so far (at least as far as he could tell and yes, he did double check to see if she was lying) but she certainly withheld information from him. She kept her emotions in check so he wouldn't see what was really going on inside her and, he realised suddenly, she didn't talk to him about how she was feeling. But then neither was he. This was the exception. Now where did _that_ leave them?

"But Cal?" Gillian said again. When he was attentive she went on. "I'm only ok with this so long as you're working towards coming home. If you think this is just an easy way out, so you don't have to..."

"It's not," Cal interrupted. "I'm comin' back. I just need to figa out how to do that right."

Gillian stared at him for a moment. Then she seemed to accept what he'd said. She gave a slight nod, and looked away.

"All right," Cal agreed, shifting forward in his seat to get up. "I'll leave you to it seein' as you're busy."

"Ok," Gillian agreed softly.

"Unless you need a hand around here?" He attempted a slight smile.

Gillian returned it. "Not at the moment. But don't think you can just laze off work on sick leave forever. I expect you back in the office."

Cal held up his hands in a sign of parley. "Sorry. You'll have to talk to my docta." He realised suddenly he hadn't been chomping at the bit to get back to work. He had been focussed on his family. Now what did _that_ mean?

Gillian walked him to the door and handed over his laptop. "Is there a password on it?" Cal queried warily.

"Probably," Gillian replied moving around to sit behind her desk again.

"Any idea what it is?" The computer was heavy.

"No idea," she smiled again. "But you had no trouble hacking into my computer so I'm sure you'll manage."

Cal smiled because he felt he had to while he wondered why the hell he would have done that. And was she teasing him or actually giving a dig? "Thanks," Cal shot from the door.

Gillian looked up and gave him a warm smile. "Sure," she responded. Cal reached for the door and pulled it open. It felt heavy too, or was that just that he was reluctant to go? He steeled himself as he walked away. He could feel her eyes on him. He needed to do this. This was the right thing to do. He needed to learn. And he needed to learn on his own. It was important. Gillian said so herself. So why did he still feel like shit?

**PJ**

"Hello?"

"Yeah hi. I'm lookin' for a Docta Fisha."

"Oh," the voice was unsure. "I think you have the wrong number. There's no Doctor Fisher here."

"All right thanks anyway," Cal responded politely and hung up quickly, before the Fisher he had rung recognised him and wanted to have a chat. He went back to his list and crossed off that name. There were two other numbers on the tail end of it that he didn't recognise and that were listed by a surname only. He clearly had some sort of weird system for storing numbers in his phone and now he had a new system of going through them. He had ignored names or numbers he recognised. He eliminated first names on principle. And that left him with a list of twelve surnames he didn't know. One of them had to be the one he was looking for. Otherwise he was going to have to invest some time hacking in to his own computer (because yes, he had brought it back to the motel and found it password locked and after trying the obvious he couldn't get into it).

Cal dialled the second to last name and went through the same process. He was looking for a Doctor Thomasson. No, no doctor there by that name but there was a Brett Thomasson if he wanted to talk to him? No, Cal didn't. He politely hung up and crossed that name off his list as well.

"Lucky last," he murmured to himself as he dialled. It rang a few times before being picked up by a pleasant woman.

"Doctor Wu's office, how may I help you?"


	45. Chapter 45

"Dad!" The door opened.

"Hi," he greeted.

"What are you doing here?"

"What I'm not allowed to visit my daughta?" Cal stepped through the doorway. He looked around the hallway of the apartment.

"Is Gillian not with you?" Emily sounded confused.

"What I'm not allowed out on my own?"

"No you are..."

Cal headed down to the living room. "Where's your husband then?"

"He plays basketball with some friends on a Sunday morning."

"Oh right. Isn't Sunday meant to be the day of rest?" Cal continued to look around.

"Not for Ajay it's not."

"This is a nice place Em."

"Thanks," she gave him a smile. "Cup of tea?"

"Lovely," Cal followed her to the kitchen.

Emily filled the electric kettle and set it to boil. "Where's your cane?"

"I graduated."

"Congrats."

"Thanks," Cal grinned.

Emily turned to get mugs from the cupboard. So hard to believe she was grown up with a husband of her own. So, so hard to believe. And she was at university becoming a lawyer and what else had she told him? Kids? Probably not yet. Cal didn't want to ask.

"So did you come by for a reason?" Emily asked as she turned back towards him.

"Well I came by to say hello," Cal told her when the reality was he was miserable and lonely and so very lost. He needed to see a familiar face. He had spent twenty four hours (one night, but two whole days now) alone in his motel. He had nowhere in the city to go and no one to see. And that was mostly because he was afraid.

"Ok cool," Emily gave him a smile. "What kind of tea do you want?"

"Regula."

"Green, English, raspberry."

"English," Cal reaffirmed. Normal. He craved something normal. Emily reached for tea bags from a stash on the bench. "So what have you been up to?"

"Nothing," she gave a shrug. "Just studying and working."

"Right."

"What about you?"

"Oh you know, studyin', workin' hard."

Avoiding my life.

"How's Gillian? And Lewis?"

"Good."

Emily looked over at him sharply. "What's going on?"

"Nothin'," Cal feigned innocence.

"What happened?"

"Nothin'," Cal tried again.

Emily approached the bench where he was leaning. "What happened with Gillian Dad?" She asked him directly, her wide brown eyes bored into his. "Tell me," she demanded.

Cal swallowed hard.

**PJ**

"Hello?"

"Dad just came to see me and he told me he's not living there anymore!?"

Gillian pulled the phone away from her ear to check the number. It was Emily, despite the fact that her voice was distorted by clear shock. "Em," Gillian started.

"What's going on? How could you just let him leave? Are you separated?"

"We're," Gillian tried again.

"This can't be happening," Emily went on. "You guys are _not_ meant to break up. Not again. You're meant to be together until you're old and wrinkled and and... otherwise there's no hope for the rest of us. And Dad won't survive without you."

"Emily," Gillian tried to cut in again.

"You saw what happened last time. He needs you. I need you too. I can't cope with him when he's like that. I can barely cope with him now," her voice had gone beyond desperation.

"What do you mean?" Gillian distanced herself from the television.

"He's like a shell of himself," Emily railed.

"He has a brain injury Em," Gillian gently reminded her.

"Yes I know that but something else is different. He came over and just 'hovered' like he was waiting for me to I don't know. Do something."

Gillian frowned at the fridge.

"It was like he was lonely."

"Quiet?"

"Yes," Emily readily agreed.

"Did he seem tired?"

"Yeah. Why? Is something wrong? How come he moved out?"

"What did Cal tell you?"

"He said he just needed independence."

"That's what he told me," Gillian reiterated.

"Surely you're not going to just stand by and let him go?"

Gillian looked at her bare feet against the tiles of the kitchen. What else could she do? She couldn't physically manhandle him and chain him to the house in anyway. "I can't make Cal feel differently. He's overwhelmed and frustrated and he just needs some space to clear his head. That's all," Gillian told his daughter gently. It sounded quite convincing.

"But it's not permanent?"

'_I hope not_.'

"Mum!?"

"Just a minute Lewis. I'm on the phone," Gillian called back to him.

"Gillian?"

"It'll be fine Em ok? Don't worry. But thanks for calling."

**PJ**

"What do you mean you're not living at the house anymore?" Emily exploded.

Cal shrank back under her vehemence. He hadn't been expecting that. "I mean I'm not livin' there anymore," he repeated, not sure what the big deal was.

"Are you kidding me?"

"No," he tried. It almost sounded like a question. Did she want the truth or should he just lie? She seemed very upset.

"Have you left Gillian?"

"Well, not really, no."

"What does 'not really' mean?" Emily pounced.

"Geeze," Cal held up his free hand in a sign of parley. "It means I'm not livin' in the bloody house at the moment, that's what it means. Nothin' more and nothin' less than that."

"But why?" Emily almost whined.

Cal gave a slight shrug, trying to indicate to her that it was not a big deal and she shouldn't be over reacting like she was. "I just needed some space."

"No Dad, you don't need any more space right now. You need to get in there and surround yourself with people who care about you. That's how you're going to get better," Emily implored.

Cal blinked, surprised. "I have you."

"Yeah but you _need_ Gillian and what about Lewis? Are you just going to abandon him? You told me you regretted letting Mom take me away from you. You said you weren't going to do that again."

Geeze, had he told her that? He must have. How else would she know?

"Isolating yourself is not the answer," Emily told him sharply. "You used to do that and you were miserable because of it. Don't you remember how good it was when you stopped pulling those kinds of stunts?" She stopped abruptly like she had bitten the end of her tongue. Cal felt himself stiffen despite the innocence of the comment. "I'm sorry," she immediately blurted. "I didn't think."

Cal shifted to the edge of the couch, putting his barely touched tea on the table. "I should go."

"No, don't go Dad," she got to her feet along with him. "I'm sorry. It was a slip of the tongue. I forget that you're..." she gestured towards him.

"It doesn't matta," Cal told her, not really listening. That was the first time someone had thrown his memory loss in his face. Gillian certainly kept her tongue a lot better and Cal wondered if he should be impressed by her control, or offended that she tried so hard to monitor what she said to him. Surely she wanted to nut off about it? He would. If he was walking in her shoes. It would drive him insane.

Emily's hand curled around Cal's upper arm and she tugged on him to stop him from walking away. "Dad please. I'm sorry ok? I didn't mean to upset you. I'm just trying to understand why you would want to leave Gillian."

"I haven't left her all right?" Cal shot back, gently pulling his arm free from her grasp. He hadn't. Right? He hadn't... So why did his heart feel so heavy? He started walking for the door. Emily followed him down the hallway. "I'm just havin' some time alone." Or whatever it was that he was doing. He didn't know anymore. When he had talked to Gillian it had all seemed so logical. He was going to organise his own days and he was going to have some space from the overwhelming family life of that house. But now that he was alone, well, it suddenly felt lonely. He didn't understand where it had come from. He had been alone before. After Zoe left with Emily, all those years, he had lived alone and he was fine and now... now he couldn't cope all of a sudden, without someone else being there? It was pathetic. "Talk to you late-a," he shot over his shoulder as he pulled the apartment door open. He left Emily to watch him leave.

As soon as he was around the corner Emily dived on the phone and dialled. As soon as it was answered she started ranting, "Dad just came to see me and he told me he's not living there anymore!?"

**PJ**

Cal got down to the street and called a taxi. He paced as he waited, agitated and jumpy. Where did she get off lecturing him like that? She was starting to sound like Gillian. Telling him all the things he should be doing. Cal sat heavily on a park bench, his heart pounding uncomfortably. Why was she the one saying all those things and Gillian wasn't? Why shouldn't she get angry with him anymore? Was she afraid of letting something slip in anger that she didn't want to? Was she protecting him? Or, again, was it just that, despite saying she didn't lie to him, she was keeping little half truths from him.

The cab pulled up and Cal got in. The driver asked him where he wanted to go and in a moment of panic Cal couldn't remember the name of the motel. He had to find it in his phone. Lucky he had thought to enter the information there just in case. For instances just like this. He felt the urge to cry and quickly fought it back. It was bad enough he had to get a stranger to drive him around the city; it would be worse if he suddenly broke down in tears in their backseat as well.

Cal held it together until he got to his room. He sat on the bed heavily. Suddenly the urge to cry was gone. This wasn't working either. He had had his space and Emily was right, had he left Gillian? Was the point of having this space to get used to not being with her (which was ironic because he didn't remember being _with_ her in the first place)? He needed to do something, he was a man of action after all. There was no point in acting like he had a plan when really he didn't. Then he'd be like Spartacus, wandering the Italian countryside with no real purpose and therefore nothing to aim towards. It was all very well rebelling to gain independence, but if he wasn't going to use it effectively... he'd get felled like Spartacus did in the end. Great, so he remembered random Roman history he had studied in college but his son's birthday, his wedding anniversary, his address and phone number drew complete blanks.

Life was a cruel son of a bitch and when he got better he was going to kick some serious ass. But first things first. Plan of attack. His physical and mental recovery were being taken care of by Rockwell, Adam and Holly. So that left his actual role in his life. Which meant, Gillian, Lewis, Lightman Group, Emily... what else? Where should he start? Probably with Emily. He had kind of been a moody bastard to her that afternoon. And beginning with something small might be a little easier. Cal crossed to the table in his room and picked up a pen. He flipped to a new page in his notebook. Then he hesitated. Seriously. Where was he going to start?


	46. Chapter 46

Cal pushed on the door to the office and walked in slowly. At least a cane had explained why he was like a turtle. Now people just thought him odd. The reception area he walked into was in muted greens. Green was supposed to be a comforting colour. That was why hospitals were often painted in that shade. It seemed bizarre to Cal. He didn't like green much as a colour. But, he conceded, the office was nice. The green was a deep forest shade on the walls, complimented by dark carpet and furniture. Classy. Not cheap. He supposed private practice would afford that.

"Hi. Can I help you?" The woman on the desk greeted him with a smile. She didn't raise her voice much and she was dressed in a pin striped suit jacket and skirt. She was businesslike, but tempered with just that little hint of warmth that was meant to make her come across as friendly.

"Uh, Lightman to see Docta Wu."

"Of course," she smiled at him. "Take a seat."

Cal did so. She hadn't looked up his appointment, which meant she had been waiting for him. He wasn't late. Perhaps she was just efficient. Cal shifted his phone to his sweaty hand from the back pocket of his jeans. He fidgeted with the screen, lighting it up and then when it dimmed, brushing his thumb over the face so it was bright again. The screen saver was a picture of Gillian and Lewis together. Judging by the age of the boy, the photo was a recent one. And the both of them looked so happy in it. Cal had spent a lot of time studying the image. It made him feel weird inside. It was almost like a part of him remembered, like his soul did, but his head didn't. He didn't remember taking the picture. He didn't even recall the setting in the background. It looked like a park? Or a playground? And yet another part of him felt a sense of fondness every time he looked at it.

The only other door in the suite opened and a middle aged woman emerged. She looked like she had been crying and Cal quickly averted his gaze to study the windows over there. His first thought was that she must be Doctor Wu. But the red eyes dispelled that. The smaller Asian man that followed her was a much better fit. He quietly directed the woman to make another appointment with the receptionist and then turned to Cal, who was trying very hard to ignore their conversation.

"Doctor Lightman," Wu greeted.

Cal got to his feet and walked through to the psychologist's office. The door closed behind him. There were leather couches, plentiful cushions and several pot plants, one on the table, a taller one in the corner. The walls were subdued shades of beige, the carpet was cream. Cal didn't recognise it from a bar of soap. "What brings you back to see me today?" The shorter man asked.

Cal turned to him. "Back? So you know me." It wasn't really a question. More of a statement.

The doctor looked startled. "Yes. You've been to see me before."

"Cos the thing is, I hit my head and I don't rememba you."

Wu's black eyes widened with more surprise. He gestured Cal should take a seat and sat himself in a tall leather chair. There was a leather bound notebook on the table in front of them, on the psychologist's side, but he made no move to pick it up. If Cal was able to move faster, he would have dived and pried himself. "What happened?"

"I was on scaffoldin' that collapsed."

"The Gerber construction site," Wu supplied. "I remember reading about it in the paper."

Cal noted the strong American accent. Wu was clearly first or second generation American. Korean? He guessed. Wu crossed his right leg over his left. "I heard you had been hurt but didn't realise the extent."

"Yeah well," Cal started with a pithy tone but couldn't think of a retort fast enough. His accident had made the papers?

"Is that why you've come to see me? You'd like to go over what we discussed in the past?"

"Yes," Cal agreed because it seemed far safer than sitting there and admitting his life was falling apart around him and he was lost and this was his last ditch effort to do _something_ to try and set it right again. Because he didn't know what the hell else to do.

Wu nodded slowly. He was in a dark blue shirt and black trousers. His tie was a bright canary yellow; the colour combination set off the natural olive tone of his skin. "We can talk about your past visits if you want to. I _would_ be interested in hearing how you're coping with things now."

"Which things?" Cal asked wearily, sensing he was having an ultimatum laid out in front of him.

Wu's gaze was steady on Cal's. "Home life. Rehab. Are you back at work?"

"No," Cal shook his head. "I was told to not even think about it until next year."

"That's sensible." The doctor reached for the notebook and folded back the leather cover to what Cal could see was a fresh page of a yellow legal pad. "Tell me about the accident."

Cal decided he may as well play along. Except, "I don't really know much about it."

Wu widened his eyes in question.

"I just know the scaffoldin' collapsed and I hit my head on the way down."

"Temporal lobe damage?"

Cal nodded. Wu made a note of that. "How long were you in the hospital?"

"Gillian told me it was just ova a month in a coma and then it was about anotha month or so in the rehabilitation facility."

Wu studied him for a moment. "You were comatose for a month?"

"Yes."

Another note on the page. "How long have you been home?"

"Not long," Cal attempted vague, wondering how the therapist would handle that. Wu just gazed at him steadily, inviting him silently to expound. "Just ova a week."

"And who's Gillian?" Wu looked up at Cal.

"My wife," Cal answered as if it were obvious. Had he not talked about Gillian before? What had he been doing here?

"How old is your son now?"

He knew about Lewis!? "Uh," Cal stopped suddenly. Wait, how old was he? "Four."

Wu made a note of that too.

"When was the last time I was here?" Cal decided to ask one of his own questions.

"Just after your son was born."

Oh well at least he wasn't in permanent care or had regular visits and Gillian just let that slip her mind. Why would she? Apparently she didn't know jack about this. "What did the pape-a's say about the accident?" Cal asked.

"That there had been another accident on the site, the fourth in just a few weeks. Sabotage was suspected. The Lightman Group was working with local police and that you had been injured while in the processes of investigating."

"And did they say who was responsible?"

"I don't really know," Wu sounded vague. "There may have been a follow up article but I didn't see it."

Cal nodded.

"Does that bother you?"

"Course it bloody botha's me," Cal shot back, knowing what the doctor was asking him. And then he was surprised. Since he had woken up he had been walking around in a daze of himself. That statement was the most like himself he had been in a while. He was bothered because he liked to be in control. Knowledge was power. It was driving him insane that he couldn't piece together his marriage or his son and yet he had let something so vital slip through the cracks of his fragile mind. The accident. Who was even responsible for the accident? And what had happened to them. Cal shifted in his seat awkwardly to pull the little notebook from his back pocket. He ignored the surprise of the psychologist opposite him as he wrote down the questions on a fresh page.

"What have you got there?" Wu queried lightly as Cal finished making notes.

"I have trouble recallin' things at the moment."

"So you're keeping notes?"

"Very logical huh?" Cal clicked the pen and closed the cover.

"It seems like a good idea to me," Wu paused briefly. "Do you have trouble remembering from the accident?"

"I have trouble tryin' to rememba from before the accident," Cal corrected. "About a whole ten years before it." Wu's eyes bulged a little. "Interestin' case aren't I?"

"Well, that kind of specific memory loss is very unusual."

"Yeah so I've heard," Cal agreed. And then something else occurred to him. Ten years. His entire relationship with Gillian. Was he purposefully trying to block it out? "So why did I come to see you in the first place?"

"You were suffering from a mild form of depression," Wu answered easily.

At least his story was consistent with Gillian's. But it was still harrowing to think. Him. Suffering. From depression? What had changed in his life so much that would reduce him to that?

"How are things at home?" Wu cut in with a question of his own.

"Probably fine though I'm not really sure," Cal answered snidely. "Cos I'm not livin' at home at the moment."

"Are you still in the rehabilitation centre?"

"No," Cal corrected and his cocky aggressive challenging demeanour fell away. He wasn't exactly proud of the fact that he wasn't at home with his wife and kid. "I went home for a bit and then I had to leave again."

"How come you had to leave?" Wu pressed gently.

Suddenly the pot plant was really interesting. "I don't really know," Cal muttered. "I just didn't feel comfortable there."

"Because you don't recall that part of your life?"

"Not one bloody minute of it."

Wu was silent for a moment. "And how is your family coping?"

Cal was silent for even longer. He didn't know. He figured it wasn't easy for them but really, at the end of the day, he hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about how Gillian was feeling, or Lewis, or what either of them had gone through sitting at his bedside all those weeks waiting for him to wake up, only to find that when he had, he claimed to not remember them at all. As if they didn't exist. As if they meant nothing to him. Had he mentioned he was a right bastard sometimes?

"See the thing is," Cal almost sighed. He looked up to meet the psychologist's eyes. "I haven't really been copin' with any of this very well and in the process I've managed to push them away and isolate them."

His statement hung heavy in the air for a moment. He suspected Wu was waiting for him to expand on that but it felt succinct enough to Cal. He wasn't coping, so he was shitting on the people around him who loved him the most. Gillian loved him. She told him that. Quite willingly and he kept just skipping over that fact. He should be holding on to it tightly. Like a freaking life line instead of shunting her away.

"A brain injury of your type, coupled with the memory loss is a very stressful situation to have to deal with," Wu started.

Was that meant to make Cal feel better?

"It's understandable that you're frustrated right now and that you perhaps don't really know where to turn. Your entire world has changed and it must be difficult to focus on something familiar."

Well that was true.

"Were you and Gillian not together ten years ago?"

"No," Cal shook his head. "She said we've been married for six."

She said. Like he didn't believe her. He did trust her right? He had from the start right?

"But we worked togetha," Cal added. The story was complex. "I was gettin' divorced and she was married to someone else but we were close. Even back then. We were good friends."

"Great. So do you think you could perhaps focus on that element of your relationship?"

Now why oh why did Cal suspect that was what the good doctor was going to suggest?

"It's complicated though," Cal almost whined. How did he explain?

"Explain it to me," Wu prompted patiently.

Cal gave a heavy annoyed sigh. He couldn't explain it to himself, let alone Gillian, let alone a stranger. "It just is."

"Try to use some describing words."

'_Fuck he's a sanctimonious bastard_,' Cal grumped to himself. Describing words. What was he? Four?

Cal swallowed an angry lump in his throat. "It's that there are expectations that I can't possibly live up to."

"Who's expectations?"

Cal almost said: mine. "Gillian's."

"What kind of expectations does she put on you?"

"She," Cal started and then thought. Well she didn't expect him to run around after Lewis. And she hadn't said a word about the Lightman Group so it wasn't like she expected him to be back in the office. And she didn't nag him to talk to his daughter (not like she used to), so Cal could concede that was a moot point. It wasn't like she was all over him, hanging off his arm, smothering, or demanding or... what did she expect from him? What she wanted was for him to get better, no matter how long that took or whatever process he needed to go through to get there. So she expected... "She expects me to get betta."

"And you don't think you will?"

"No," Cal admitted quietly. "I don't."

"Define better?"

"My memories."

"She expects them to come back?"

"Yes," Cal nodded. Although, that didn't quite sit true. Because she didn't pressure him about that either. She had made no comments about his memory coming back, nor did she press him to recall details or events, dates or what day of the week it was. "No," Cal shook his head. "I don't know. I expect them to come back. Or at least I want them to. But Gill... I don't know. She's sad."

"What is she sad about?" Wu prompted gently.

"I don't know," Cal started. "She's sad that..." He stopped and thought and oh god he felt worse. "She's sad that I'm gone." Wholly shit he actually felt like he might cry! This was awful. This was exactly why he didn't go to therapy.

"You can always go back."

"Not just physically cos I'm livin' in a motel at the moment," Cal corrected, suddenly bold. Suddenly sure. Suddenly in the middle of a breakthrough. "She's sad that she's lost me. Not me, her husband and her friend, and _I'm_ here in his place."


	47. Chapter 47

"Hi," Cal approached the desk in the front. A uniformed male officer looked up at him. His expression said 'yes?' while his face said 'what do you want?' and his demeanour said 'fuck I hate desk duty'. "I'm lookin' for a Boycott." The blank stare of the uniform hardened. "Uh," Cal wracked his brain. The Boycott had stuck with him. It was an unusual name to hear. But he couldn't recall the rest. Like so many things from those first few days, those first weeks really, he just couldn't remember. "He's one of your detectives," Cal went on. He had a double barrelled name. What was it?

"Aiden Fox-Boycott?" A deadpan tone.

"Yeah him," Cal responded enthusiastically.

"I'll see if he's in," the younger man reached for a phone on the desk. "Who's calling?" He jerked his chin at Cal in case there was confusion about just exactly who he was referring to.

"Lightman."

The cop punched in a series of numbers. He waited for the other end to pick up. Cal felt an aching in his hip and shifted his weight slightly to counter it. He had walked here. Not a million blocks but he had been around the corner and thought he'd just walk the fifteen minutes. Now he was mildly regretting it. He would get stiff and sore when he stopped for the evening.

"Detective I've got a Lightman here to see you."

Cal watched as the young man listened. His demeanour changed almost immediately. "Take a seat," he told Cal politely. "He'll be right out."

"Thanks," Cal told him and turned. He almost hobbled. Apparently his muscles were going to seize up even before he got into bed that evening. He had barely sat when the double doors to the precinct opened and the tall detective walked out.

"Doctor Lightman," he addressed him formally, extending his hand in greeting.

Cal got to his feet a little awkwardly but hoped he covered it and reached for the hand to shake. "Detective. Thanks for seein' me. I hope you're not busy."

"It's not a problem at all. Come on through," Fox-Boycott gestured to the doors. He led the way over to his desk in a quieter section of the bull pen and indicated Cal should have a seat. In one of those chairs that faced where the cop worked. Like he was there to give a statement or something. "What can I help you with?"

"I haven't remembad anythin'," Cal raised a hand slightly to dissuade the detective before he could get his hopes up. "I was actually wonderin' if I could see the police report."

"Oh," the police officer was a little perturbed.

"Cos I don't rememba anythin'," Cal repeated with a little more meaning in his tone, hoping the other man would catch the hint.

"Right ok," he nodded. "Why don't I grab the file and I'll go over it with you?" He stood and Cal followed suit, at his slower (but still a massive improvement compared to just a few weeks ago) pace. "Go through there and take a seat," he pointed out a comfortable waiting room.

So they went their separate ways. Cal went through and took a seat on a comfortable couch. This wasn't their break room but it was set up in a casual way so that whoever they were talking to, likely family receiving bad news, would be put at ease. He only had to wait a minute before the detective came back with a folder. It wasn't paper thin, but nor was it thick enough to be alarming. Cal wondered why there was even a paper trail; wasn't the world meant to be paper-less now? And then he was proud of himself for thinking outside of the little square that had become his life.

Fox-Boycott took a seat next to Cal on the couch and opened up the folder, placing it on the table in front of them so they could both see it. Cal shifted forward to get a better view. There were photos attached to the left insert with a paperclip. On the right was the typical typed cover sheet. "Do you remember much of anything from the investigation you started?"

"No," Cal shook his head without hesitation. He had spent hours alone trying to force himself back to that day but he had no more success with it than he had with trying to force any other memory. That was why he was here wasn't it? So he would know.

"Ok well," the detective flicked through the pages. He started a narration, a brief timeline of how Cal had ended up with the case. The head of Gerber construction (pronounced with a hard 'G' like grate) had hired the Lightman Group to investigate what looked like a series of work place accidents. Except Mr Gerber didn't think they were, which is why he had got outside help involved. The incidents had started off small enough. The safety guard of a power saw had come loose and a worker had been cut. He hadn't lost a digit or anything, but the laceration was severe enough that he needed stitches, time off work, and disability pay. Other things started happening. To other men on the crew. So Loker had concluded there was no one person being targeted. The site and crew were too large for that to be a possibility.

Cal recognised Loker's handwriting on some of the pages. He must have handed everything over to the authorities. "So Loke-a headed the investigation?" Cal interrupted the flow of the officer sitting next to him.

The detective turned his head slightly towards Cal. "Yeah."

"And then how did I get involved?"

"After Loker went to speak with the crew he ran into opposition."

"So he kicked it up the chain of command?"

"He did," he nodded.

Cal thought for a moment. He hadn't actually seen Loker in a long time. He had been by once since Cal woke up. The newbie, Ria, had been far more frequently. '_Not new_,' Cal reminded himself. She had been with the Group for at least ten years. "Right," Cal almost sighed. "So then I headed out there?"

"With Doctor Roberts."

'_Now who the hell is that_?'

"On the morning of May the twelfth," the detective went on. He shifted papers around to get his bearings. Cal figured it had been a while since he had had to be familiar with the case file. How long had it been since the accident? Several months...

Cal had driven out to the site to speak with the foreman. He had encountered Victor Malrose, the second in charge, at the base of the structure (an office building). Fox-Boycott showed Cal a picture of the bald-headed man. Cal shook his head slightly. He didn't know who that was; at least, he didn't recognise him by sight. The detective put the photo aside again. He, Doctor Roberts and Malrose had had a brief discussion before the deputy foreman had indicated where Cal could find Mr Hall, the foreman, at the top of the scaffolding. Cal had climbed while Doctor Roberts had remained on the ground.

"Wait, so I wasn't the only one up there?" Cal asked surprised, although when he had decided he was the only one injured he couldn't recall.

"No Mr Hall was also at the top of the structure."

"Was he all right?"

"He suffered fractured ribs. But he did walk away."

'_Huh_,' Cal thought feeling a little stunned. "And no one else was hurt?"

"There were a few lacerations due to flying debris but no, no one else was seriously injured."

Cal nodded to that, feeling a strange tightness in his throat. It all of a sudden felt very personal. "It wasn't an accident?" Cal cut in.

"No there were deliberate signs of sabotage." The detective flicked through to find a series of photographs of the piping used in the structure and reports of how the steel had been weakened periodically over several weeks through heat abuse. There were burn marks on a section of the piping; it looked like a blow torch had been used. Cal wondered how anyone couldn't have noticed. It was pretty obvious. But then again, he could concede people often didn't see the things they weren't looking for.

"And you linked back all the accidents to one man?"

"We did," the detective confirmed. He spread out the evidence, showing Cal the links they made. Quickly. The entire investigation had only taken a week. One of the biggest clues they got was from the video Doctor Roberts shot on the day, at the exact moment the scaffolding came down he had the hand held recording device on the face of Victor Malrose, who, on closer scrutiny of the footage by Ria and Eli, revealed a 'happy' expression, delight and then a little flicker of contempt just before the footage cut out as Roberts rushed into the dust cloud. Fox-Boycott gave Cal a play by play as he flipped through stills from the footage Roberts had shot. Cal reached out for the images of Malrose in his smile and then his sneer.

Had he seen something that day in this man? Had Cal noticed something and that was why he had kept Roberts with the second in charge? Cal studied the tight images, the quality was good, high pixel rate, funny how he noticed _that_. But he couldn't remember anything of Malrose, not even a gut feeling. Just empty coldness. This man had destroyed Cal's life. He had taken it apart in an instant. Cal's eyes flickered over to the pile of photographs, his gaze catching on a blood stain in the dirt. The police officer had been trying to hide those from him, Cal could tell. He didn't really need to see them. This was morbid enough. So he pretended he hadn't noticed. But that was an awful lot of blood. His blood?

Had Gillian seen these photos?

And why the sudden urge to protect her? They had worked a million gruesome cases, seen autopsy photographs, she had seen him beaten up before. And, yeah, maybe he had watched her a little too closely just to see how she would handle it but she had, handled it. She had always been shaken after those cases, where they'd stumbled across a body or a victim, but she always handled it. Probably in safer ways than he did. Cal shook himself out of his thoughts, aware that he had been silent and still for too long. He handed the images back to the detective.

"So you charged Malrose," Cal plucked the name out of the air, pleased with himself once again for remembering the detail.

"He's been charged and arraigned yes."

"Court date?"

"Next month I believe."

Cal wondered if Gillian knew about it and whether she planned to be there. And then he wondered if he planned on being there. He probably should. It would add impact to the case. In fact, he wondered why the district attorney prosecuting the case had not approached him yet. Or were they also under strict instruction from Gillian to say away from him?

"He acted alone?" Cal brought his mind back to focus.

"Yes. He was acting alone." The detective went on to explain about how Malrose had been passed over for promotion once and had apparently gotten very bitter about it. He had debts, recession related, of course, and badly need the extra salary to pay them off. Then the man who had been promoted above him had gotten ill and had to take an extended leave, which later became permanent and Malrose's opportunity had come; nudged along by the misfortune of another.

"He didn't, you know, assist the forma second in charge in gettin' sick?" Cal queried.

"Not as far as we can tell. But we didn't look into it too much."

"Why not?"

"It wasn't pertinent to the case. If the doctors treating Mr Carter suspected something out of the ordinary they would have made their own inquiries."

Cal gave a slight nod to let that one go. He would have looked in to it. Could never be too sure. May as well catch the liar in all his webs.

"Who's prosecutin'," Cal asked next.

"Knapp. Do you know her?"

The named tugged at Cal's brain, as if it were trying to break free, but he knew better than to assist or try to force it. It wouldn't help. It would be better to let it slip out when he wasn't looking. Perhaps they were self-conscious, his memories? Cal shook his head at the detective even as the name surged forward, so familiar, but still so elusive.

"Is there anything else you want to know?"

"Was he sorry?"

"Pardon?"

"Was he sorry? For what he did? Does he even know what his schemin' did?"

The detective looked at him carefully.

"Does he know what he did to Gillian and Lewis? What he did to me?"

"He knows," the officer responded quietly.

"And is he sorry?" Cal pressed. "Did he show any remorse at all?"

The detective glanced away and didn't answer. Cal's question hung in the air but he had caught an answer in the muscles of other man's face before it angled away from him. And he got his answer anyway.


	48. Chapter 48

He was nervous. He shouldn't be nervous. He was nervous though. He knocked on the door and then belatedly noticed there was a door bell and he wondered if he should push that because what if they were upstairs and didn't hear him? Out of the corner of his eye Cal could see the taxi pull away from the curb and head down the street. Oh wait! What if they weren't even at home? Cal checked his watch. Wasn't this normally the time Lewis came back from day care? He wrote it down. Gillian could have taken him to work with her. She said she was busy. Actually, didn't she say she was in the middle of...?

The door pulled abruptly open. Lewis stood before him. He eyed Cal up warily. Cal gave him a nod. "Hi."

"Hi," Lewis repeated.

"Can I come in?"

"Yes," Lewis nodded. He barely stepped aside to let Cal by so he kind of just pushed his way in and closed the door gently.

"Is Mum home?"

Of course she was home but it was a good conversation starter. Sort of.

"In there," Lewis gestured vaguely down the hall.

Cal started walking in the direction of the kitchen and Lewis raced past him to beat him there. He heard Lewis yelling out that he was there and a second later Gillian's head appeared around the open kitchen doors. She seemed surprised. Very surprised. But then she covered it up almost immediately again. "Hi," he greeted her.

"Hi," the rest of her body stumbled into view. She had kicked off her pumps and she was barefoot in her tight fitting dress. Her hair fell into her face and she absently brushed it out of the way while she also dried her hands on a small towel.

"I," Cal started and resisted the urge to apologise. What for? Actually, there were a few things he should apologise for. "Should I have called ahead?"

"Of course not," she responded indignantly.

That wasn't it. "It's all right that I'm here?"

"Yes, of course," she frowned now. "Cal," she approached him, that one foot of space between them where they stood in the doorway, and put her hand on his forearm. "It's your house too. You're welcome to come and go as you please."

Cal gave a kind of 'yeah course' smile when what he really thought was 'that doesn't feel right.'

"Come in," Gillian went on, letting her hand slide down his arm to give his fingers a squeeze and a little tug, encouraging him in the right direction. "I was making Lewis a snack," she explained over her shoulder. "Do you want something?"

"Nah I'm all right," Cal declined politely, following her back to her work station where she was slicing fruit. It was something Lewis could do without, to be honest, did he really need his apple cored and cut up for him? Or maybe Gillian just liked doing that kind of thing for him. Cal used to cutesy things like that for Emily. It was just taking the time to do something nice for his kid. Lewis was watching TV at the moment, poised on the couch so he was sitting on his ankles, leaning forward, absorbed. Cal moved to lean against the bench, feeling uneasy, unsure, awkward. He had left this too long. "You didn't call," he started and then kicked himself.

Gillian's hands hesitated, belying the emotion underneath this calm Stepford exterior. "I wasn't sure you wanted me to." And that didn't mean she hadn't thought about it. It didn't mean she hadn't picked up that phone to dial his number, to check up on him, to text Emily to see if he had called by to see her again. She glanced over at him. He was watching her carefully, neutrally. A moment of heavy silence passed between them, punctuated by sudden distinctive bursts of giggling from Lewis on the couch.

Cal let his features soften first. "I'm sorry you felt that way. I did want you to call. I should have called you," he corrected himself. He watched as Gillian's shoulders dropped slightly.

"I didn't want you to feel like I was..." she hesitated. She didn't say it but they both knew, '_smothering you_.'

"Look, Gill, I'm not... I don't know what the hell I'm doin'."

"I know," she sighed, letting him know that she was saying that was ok, that she wasn't blaming him.

"I might be realisin' things a bit afta the fact."

Gillian nodded, her attention on him now, not the apple on her chopping board.

"But I _want_ you to call. And I _want_ to call you. And I _want_ to come ova and spend time with you and Lewis," he gestured slightly towards the loud TV over his shoulder. "If that's all right."

"Of course that's all right," and she sounded distinctly emotional. Cal nodded and she gave the ghost of a smile and then turned back to her work. She seemed to blink rapidly a few times to get under control and Cal was suddenly aware of the tension between them. The good kind. The kind, if he wasn't so chicken shit about stepping over the line, of screwing things up (now, after all the mistakes he had made so far), that he would step over and kiss her in. He stared at her for a long time, watching until it became clear that she was uncomfortable. Colour rose in her cheeks. Cal had never seen her blush for him. And it made him feel squirmy inside. A second later Gillian was walking around the bench, in the direction opposite to him, taking the plate of cut fruit to Lewis on the couch. Cal watched her gesture it towards their boy. Lewis ignored her. She nudged his face with the cool ceramic and he suddenly flinched to look up at her. Cal chuckled.

And then she was back.

"So...," she started, moving to clean up the mess of the kitchen bench. "What did you get up to this weekend?"

It sounded loaded. It sounded prying.

"I went to see Em."

"She told me."

"So you two are still in cahoots?"

Gillian looked over at him. Her face was a mix of neutral and stoic. He wasn't accusing her and she wasn't apologising. "She was worried about you."

"She shouldn't. I'm fine." Cal didn't even have to glance at Gillian to correct himself. "All right I'm not fine but I'm gettin' there."

Gillian looked over at him, her hands still with the apple cores grasped within her fingers. Her eyebrows flickered into a frown and then out again. "Did you have therapy yesterday?" She asked cautiously and Cal got the impression that was not what she wanted to ask him at all. He wondered how she knew something was different, that he had done something different. She was talking about physical therapy, or the occupational therapy; she didn't know about Wu yet.

"Yeah," he nodded. "It was fine. It was good."

This wasn't what he wanted to talk about and it wasn't what she wanted to talk about either. But Cal didn't know how to make a nice subtle side step into a conversation anymore. He didn't know how to be entirely comfortable around her.

"I went to talk to Detective Fox-Boycott."

Gillian's eyebrow went up as she straightened from leaning in to the trash under the sink.

"You know to talk about the accident," Cal went on, as if he needed to explain.

Gillian nodded. She reached for a cloth by the tap.

"Just to know," Cal finished lamely.

"Did he answer all your questions?"

"Yeah pretty much."

Gillian nodded again. "That's good."

"Yeah," Cal agreed awkwardly. "That's all right isn't it?" He went on quickly.

"You don't need my permission."

"No I just mean that I went to someone else?" And it sounded like an accusation.

"You can talk to whomever you want."

"I mean," Cal pressed. Why the hell not? It was already strained. "That I didn't talk to _you_ about it."

Gillian gave a slight sigh. She abandoned the cloth without even using it and approached where he was leaning. She forcibly took his hands and stood before him, looking him in the eye. "Cal. My indifference is not because I'm mad at your for some perceived slight or going behind my back in anyway. I act like I don't care because I don't care. It's good you went to talk to Boycott. I don't know the details anyway. I wasn't there and I was so worried about you after the fact that I only thought to find out about it later. I only know who was responsible, not the when or where or why." She paused slightly. "Ok?"

Cal stared into her sincere blue eyes and nodded. "Ok."

She squeezed his fingers. "Besides, I didn't really give a toss about how you got hurt or who was responsible. I just wanted you to be ok."

"Well we're nothin' alike," Cal quipped as she started to pull away again.

She shot him a smile over her shoulder. "That's actually a good thing."

**PJ**

Cal shifted to sit next to Lewis on the couch. The TV was off now and he had a book open on his lap. He glanced at Cal out of the corner of his eye, but tilted his head slightly to do so and the result was quite a comical expression. Gillian was upstairs changing while the last touches of dinner cooked. Cal had set the table. It all felt very domestic. But like he was a guest in someone else's home and was also on his best behaviour. "What are you readin'?" Cal focussed his attention on Lewis. His son. (Still strange!)

Lewis swivelled his head to look over at Cal and then he glanced away again and fingered the book. It looked like he was deciding what to say. Or whether he was going to answer at all. He gave a little mumble and shifted a bit where he sat and then offered the book to Cal.

"Can we read togetha?" Cal suggested.

Lewis nodded and leaned over. Cal had made sure not to sit too close. He didn't want to force himself into intimacy with the boy when he had made it so very clear in the last month or so that that was not what he wanted. He had to make it up to him now. The initiative and effort had to come from Cal. He had to make it right again. So far, it looked as though Lewis was relatively forgiving. And Cal considered himself very lucky for that.

**PJ**

Gillian came down the stairs feeling a little carefree. She was in a casual skirt now and a loose tank top. It was summer. The sun was beautiful. Their bedroom was lit up in the evening light. It was warm. She should be feeling good about now. She loved this time of year. They would spend time out in the yard, perhaps sitting and talking, reading, playing games with Lewis. Sometimes she wished for a pool. Once she had talked to Cal about it. He had seemed cautious, possible mild signs of enthusiasm. He was probably thinking of the immense undertaking of putting a pool in. Where would it go? Who would install it? The upkeep? Fair enough. But it would have been nice. And like so many things now, it was probably on hold indefinitely.

Gillian rounded the corner and emerged through the kitchen doors. Cal had been setting the table when she finally made the excuse to go and change. Cooking in this weather, in her restrictive 'work clothes', bordered on torture. She wasn't sure what she expected, Cal perhaps hiding out in the kitchen (the tension between him and Lewis was palpable now, obvious and undeniable, and as soon as Lewis was in bed she was going to confront Cal about it. It was not on. Memories or not, Lewis was his son and he had some semblance of emotional responsibility. Perhaps he just needed a kick in the ass about it. That had worked before on many occasions. Perhaps he just needed a kick in the ass about it. That had worked before on many occasions. If Cal planned on being with her, he had to also be with Lewis; she was a package deal now), she certainly didn't expect to see him on the couch with Lewis cuddled up against his shoulder, a book in his lap, reading in a low murmur. She stopped by the corner of the bench, her bare feet allowing her stealth against the cool slate tiles, and watched them. Her husband and son, sharing a sweet intimate moment, something she craved for them and for herself. She felt a flare of jealousy. How come he was connecting with Lewis and not her? She was there first. She was his wife. And then: Lewis was his son. And he was only four. He should connect with the boy. This was exactly what she wanted for them both. Gillian could wait. It wasn't a big deal. She had been waiting all this time. She could keep on waiting for her turn.

But for how long?


	49. Chapter 49

Cal rubbed the towel over his head slowly and pulled it away from his face to see his reflection in the mirror. His cheeks were a little red from the warm shower and the steamy heat of the room. His light hair was askew. But he didn't look old and worn, not like he had in the hospital. He felt younger, energised now, and so he looked the same. To his eyes anyway. He supposed he could get a second opinion. But what did it matter now? He was learning to let go. He was seeing Doctor Wu on a regular basis.

Cal's phone started ringing and he hobbled as quickly as he could to reach it where it was resting on the bed. Physical therapy always made his muscles a little stiff as soon as he cooled down and then they would come right again. He reached for the phone, feeling a shot of delight course through him as he saw Gillian's name on the screen. "Hi!"

"Hey," she didn't sound quite as enthusiastic.

"What's up?" Cal asked, swiping at a droplet of water tickling its way down his neck with a hand.

"I," she started and stopped and it seemed like she was hesitant and resigned and Cal was impressed with himself for getting a 'sense' of her mood over the phone. He'd had dinner at her place, their place, the last two nights in a row. He was back in that optimistic 'things are going well' mentality. And that invariably meant another layer would peel back as they healed and something else would kick up the dust again. But at the moment, things felt good.

"I was wondering if you were busy this afternoon," Gillian tried again.

"Not particularly," Cal responded.

"You have plans?'

"Well only cos I have nothin' betta to do. Are you ringin' to offa me somethin' betta to do?"

"Well... maybe not better, but you would be doing me a huge favour."

"Ask away," Cal was suddenly very interested.

"I'm in the... I'm caught up here and Emily has a class this afternoon and I need someone to get Lewis from day care."

"Sure," Cal responded easily.

"You'd need to get him in fifteen minutes."

"Not a lot of warnin' but all right."

"I'm sorry, I tried my mother but she's not answering her phone."

Should Cal be offended he was how far down her list of people to call in a day care emergency?

"No, it's all right. Don't be sorry," he urged her.

'_He's my kid too_.'

"I'll call a cab and head ova there right now."

"Thank you," she told him sincerely.

"Caught up at work Gill? Is it somethin' I should know about?"

"I'll tell you later." And she hung up.

Cal wondered if she really would tell him as he searched for the cab company's number in his phone. She often said she would tell him about things and then didn't. And Cal didn't always remember to prompt her. But he didn't think it was purposeful on her part. He actually thought she had a lot on her mind. There wasn't really a lot of room for deep and meaningful conversations. He was distracted himself. Physical therapy, occupational therapy, Lewis... his marriage was taking a bit of a back seat. He wasn't actually worried about it for once. It would work its self out. He was confident.

Cal ordered a taxi to come and get him and then finished getting dressed. He finger-combed his hair into place, thinking about a haircut, slipped on shoes and socks and grabbed his phone, wallet and keys. He was outside waiting for the cab, the address memorised from the notes in his little book. At the day care centre he asked the cabbie to wait and gave him money to sweeten the enticement. As Cal headed inside it suddenly struck him. What if Lewis refused to leave with him? He wasn't exactly instilling a great sense of trust with the boy at the moment. Sure, the nights he was spending at the house with his family were going well and it wasn't like Lewis treated him as if he had the plague, but still, there was still a small amount of uncertainty from the four year old.

Cal pulled open the door to the centre and stepped in. It must have been pack down time or something because the noise was just incredible and children ran yelling around the room, some with toys in their hands, some gathering their bags together. A group of parents were hovering around, alternately talking to staff or their children. And then something else hit him. Would people here recognise him? And did they know? Was he going to have to make embarrassing excuses or 'sorry who are you?' A wave of anxiety crashed into Cal's chest and he took an unsteady breath, feeling like the world was tilting uncomfortably.

A father nearby spotted Cal and approached. "Hi Cal. We heard about the accident. It's nice to see you around here again."

Cal shook his hand, nodded politely, told the pressure in his chest to ease out. He had dealt with far worse situations than this. And he could lie his ass off if he needed to. That was his defence mechanism. Some animals poisoned, some camouflaged, some made themselves bigger, smaller, sharper; Cal lied. "Yeah it's been quite a while," Cal agreed. He made a show of looking around the room. "Seen Lewis somewhere in this riot?"

The other man chuckled. "Yeah he was packing away the blocks last time I saw him," he indicated the corner of the mat area. It was bare. Lewis had clearly moved on. "So you're not back at work yet?"

"No," Cal shook his head to the genuine question. This man wasn't prying, he was merely making conversation. "Nah doc reckons I probably won't be back until the start of next year."

"So you're going to be a house husband until then?"

"Yeah I think that's fair," Cal gave a cheeky smile. "Let the wife make a livin' for once."

The man chuckled along and from that Cal was able to deduce that this guy, whoever he was, dressed in casual jeans and a shirt, was not the main breadwinner in his family. He wasn't on retrieval duties today. He did this every day. Cal wondered what that was like. The guy seemed relatively happy about it. Relaxed. Now what Cal needed was a name. That would be nice. That would be less rude. And his child. So he could make an exit.

Lewis found him. Running up to crash into his legs before looking up at him slightly aghast, like he had done something wrong, something he had been told off about previously, but had forgotten. Cal gave him a smile and crouched down to his level (that was the easy part, it was straightening up again that was difficult and he had forgotten that right in that instance, wanting to be closer to his son's level). "You have a good day?"

Lewis nodded.

"Wanna grab your bag and lunch box and go home?"

Lewis nodded again and raced off, leaving his father to figure out how to get to his feet without taking a nose dive. Cal reached for a chair and kind of jerked himself back to his height awkwardly. Luckily for him, the dad at his side was busy with his own kid. And a quick glance around the room assured him no one else had noticed. Or they were at this moment avoiding his eye. But Cal couldn't tell that. He needed therapy with the FACS manual as well. It was nearly time to make that phone call to Loker.

Lewis was back within two minutes, bag on his back, lunch box and drink bottle poking out from the unzipped large section. Cal made him turn around to do it up properly, telling him he would lose his things. But Lewis didn't seem to respond to that. And Cal remembered belatedly that very noisy situations were terrible for hearing aids. There was a chance Lewis hadn't heard him. Cal let the bag go and told Lewis to start walking. Lewis just stood there. Cal placed a hand on the little boy's shoulder and Lewis looked up at him. "Shall we go?" Cal asked him, raising his voice a little to be heard over the noise. He wished he knew how to sign. What was the sign for 'going home', or 'leaving now'? But when he dared to attempt to access those memories (or any memories for that matter) he could feel the block in his brain, almost as if it were physically there between his neurons. Forcing it had not and would not work. He had to go the road of his other therapies; learn it again.

"Home," Lewis nodded and brought his fingers and thumb together against the side of his mouth, then moved them outwards in a very small arc towards his ear, touching his cheek again. Cal watched the quick movement's of Lewis's hand and tried to mimic the action as they walked. He pushed the door open for Lewis and they headed outside. Lewis looked around confused for a moment until Cal gestured to the waiting cab. They climbed into the back and Cal gave the address for Gillian's house. Their house. Then he turned to make sure Lewis had done up his seat belt over his lap and tucked it under his arm so it wouldn't strangle him in an accident. Once Cal was also belted in and Lewis had told him to 'make-a click', Cal moved his hands in the sign for 'home' again. He nudged Lewis to show him. Lewis looked at him confused again.

"No Dad," he said suddenly deciding that this must be a game. He gave a slight smile that was Gillian's and made the sign rapidly again.

"Slowa," Cal demanded gently. "Like this?"

Lewis giggled, then clamped both his hands over his mouth. "No! Like this!" He showed Cal again. "Daddy's silly." He signed that too but Cal let it go. He knew 'Dad' or 'Daddy' or 'Father' was an open handed gesture by the forehead. He didn't need to learn silly right now. He practised 'home' one more time, Lewis nodded that he was right, and then they fell into silence. It had been a cute way to interact with Lewis but now he wasn't so sure he wanted to let on that he didn't know what he was doing. How would Lewis feel about that? Or maybe it would be a really great way for them to connect again. Hard to tell.

When they pulled up at the house Lewis pushed the catch on his seat belt and climbed awkwardly out of the car before Cal could pay the driver and do the same. Lewis was waiting at the front door by the time Cal caught up to him. He looked dejected. "Locked," he informed Cal as he hung off the door knob. Cal produced his keys and went through them trying to remember. Gillian had shown him. It was either one of these two similar looking ones. There were several other keys on there he didn't recognise in the least. Plus his car key. How had he not noticed them before? Probably because the only key he was really worried about at the moment was his motel key.

Cal tried one key first which fit in the lock but didn't turn. Lewis banged into the door and Cal's legs as he waited impatiently. Cal pulled the key and tried the other one, his frustration suddenly flaring into an outburst he only just managed to keep a lid on. The second key worked and Lewis pushed the door open rapidly and barged on through, leaving Cal on the stoop feeling suddenly hot in the summer sun. He stepped inside the cooler house, yanked his keys from the lock and slammed the door behind him. Lewis had dumped his bag on the little foyer area at the foot of the stairs. Cal realised the house was quiet and he didn't know where the boy had gone. He headed for the kitchen and that large open living space Gillian seemed to spend all her time in. Lewis was climbing up on the bench, using the drawers as a step ladder.

"Oi!"

Lewis startled and quickly dropped to the floor.

"What are you doin'?" Cal asked him.

"Hungy," Lewis responded petulantly.

"Well you ask," Cal told him firmly. "Would you like somethin' to eat?"

Lewis nodded with a pout.

"What would you like?"

"A naanaa."

"Banana?" Cal asked him. Lewis nodded again. Cal reached over the bench to retrieve one out of the bowl and handed it over.

"I do it," Lewis told him, snatching his hand around the fruit and eagerly yanking on the stem with the other, trying to split it to get to the fruit inside. Cal let go and wondered if he should interfere but Lewis seemed quite keen and it had distracted him from getting told off. And then Cal realised he had reacted out of instinct instead of worrying about what was the right thing to do and Lewis had responded like it was the most natural thing in the world. Lewis wandered away, still prying his way into the fruit.

"Shall we do somethin'?" Cal asked him, wondering what Gillian's normal routine was and what he could possibly do to keep the boy entertained until Gillian got home. When was she going to be home? Cal pulled his phone to check the time and found a message from Gillian. Surprised he hadn't heard it or felt it vibrate in his pocket, Cal opened it curious. **NO TV 4 LEWIS 2DAY. 4GOT 2 TELL U. THANKS**

"TV," Lewis responded absently.

"No TV," Cal responded. Lewis shot Cal a glare over his shoulder, looking like, well, him, when he was pouting, and ran for the stairs, thudding his way up them. Cal could hear the bang of heels on the floor above him and sighed. Now what was _he_ going to do? He should probably go and check on Lewis, just to make sure he wasn't having a fit or something up there and then... So Cal headed upstairs, taking his time, because like Adam said, rushing was only going to slow him down. It was quiet on the second level so Cal crept down the hall. Lewis's door was wide open and as Cal got closer he could see the boy crouched down on the floor where a racing track was set up. He was pushing a car along the course, making the appropriate sound effects as he munched on the banana that looked like it had resisted being opened quite fiercely. There were pieces of mashed banana against Lewis's chest and on his fingers. Cal crept back from the doorway so he wouldn't be seen or heard. He would make sure to clean that mess up later. He even set an alert in his phone to make sure. He didn't want Gillian to come home and think he had just let Lewis run riot. Maybe he should start dinner? Peel potatoes or make a salad or something. Now that was a good idea.

With a purpose Cal headed back to the kitchen. He went through the cupboards and fridge and weighed up his options. He decided on the fresh baby potatoes and a mixed salad. That was a start. And then Gillian could give him some sort of indication when she got home of what Lewis was likely to eat (something they hadn't already had this week). After that, Cal checked the time again. He could set the potatoes to start cooking in a few hours. There was still no sign of Lewis. Cal hadn't brought anything with him to work on (yes, he had homework Holly set him) so what was he going to do? Cal's eyes fell on the book case. He could always read. But then, there wasn't anything really age appropriate for him in here. Perhaps the other living room would have a better yield? And his attention span was a lot better for books now than when he had been in the hospital.

Cal headed into the other room and crossed to the bookcase. The lower shelves were obscured by the couch from the door way. And this was the first time he had actually walked into the room properly. So he was delighted but also a little nervous about finding the lower shelves of the bookcase were crammed with photo albums, not books (which, now he thought about it, were probably in the study). Physical photos. Cal pulled them eagerly. And a baby book! Two!

Wait.

Two?

Cal grabbed a stack of everything and piled it onto one of the couch cushions and then sat in the middle. He pulled the two baby books towards him. One was blue. The other pink. Boy and girl right? Cal opened the blue one and yes the title page announced it was the baby book of Lewis Guy Hope Lightman. Guy? Hope? Cal closed it again and opened the pink one. Lily Kiera Fate Lightman.

What the fuck was this?


	50. Chapter 50

When Gillian got home the house seemed eerily quiet. She headed for the kitchen and heard the buzz of the extractor fan. Cal was at the stove replacing the lid on a pot of something. She smiled as she came through the door, still not over the buzz of seeing him doing something so normal in their home, like he should be doing, if life hadn't been suddenly interrupted. "Hey," she announced her presence.

Cal jumped. "Geeze," he breathed.

"Sorry," Gillian put her purse down on the corner of the breakfast bar along with her keys. "Didn't mean to startle you." She looked around quickly, a little flare of dread, then concern. "Where's Lewis?"

"Upstairs." Cal approached where she stood.

"You didn't have to start dinner," she gave him a pleased expression.

"Just put potatoes on and made a salad," Cal shrugged.

Gillian made to push around him but Cal didn't step out of her way so she bumped by him awkwardly. He turned with her. "Who's Lily?"

Gillian stopped still her heart beating cold for a second. She turned to him. His face was set in determination and she supposed he had every right... "How did you?"

"The book," Cal gestured over his shoulder towards the formal living room.

Gillian nodded. That was fair right? It wasn't really snooping around when it was his own home. When those books belonged to him as well.

"She's ours?" Cal queried.

Gillian nodded again. Stepped towards him slightly. "I'll tell you," she offered. "All about it. But, it's late and I need to feed Lewis." Funny how Lewis was 'hers' in particular when there were responsibilities to take care of. "Can we talk after dinner?"

Cal eyed her neutrally. She got closer, reaching out her hands to put over his crossed arms. "I promise. We can talk. I'll tell you about her. The whole story. Just... can we do it after we eat?"

"Promise?"

"Yes," Gillian nodded sincerely. "I promise."

Cal gave a slight nod. He gestured to the stove. "Didn't know what else to make."

Gillian turned away from him and went to the cupboard. Her hands were shaking slightly, she noticed, as she reached to open the deep pantry next to the fridge. She was distracted while she searched for something she could put together in fifteen minutes. She could feel Cal's gaze on her back and even after she had stood there for a while thinking she realised neither of them had moved. She suddenly doubted the wisdom of every decision she had made in the last three months. She was doubting herself by the time she felt Cal's arms embrace her from behind. She was surprised by the gesture, by its rarity in the last few months and by the compassion he was clearly showing. Sure, he hugged her often in the past, even when they weren't married, but considering he had just discovered a rather large secret she had been purposefully keeping from him (and they both knew she had), he was being particularly gracious. Considering.

"Was she ours?" Cal murmured against the back of her head.

Gillian knew what he meant. The book was not that of a niece, or a cousin, but their daughter. She nodded. Then shook her head. "Adopted."

"What happened to her?"

"She died," Gillian stumbled. She felt Cal's arms tighten inadvertently. It was hard to breathe, and not because of his arms around her torso. The pantry smelt like cinnamon. Lewis had knocked the container off the shelf and she couldn't get the smell out no matter how thoroughly she had cleaned down those shelves, the wall, and the floor.

"I'm sorry," Cal told her in a quiet tone of voice. Soft. Gentle.

"Me too," Gillian whispered back.

**PJ**

Dinner bordered on awkward. Gillian tried too hard to be pleasant and jovial for Lewis's sake (who was extremely happy to see his mother home, which made her worry even more), showing interest in his day (he was building something with a hammer and nails at day care and after they got home, Cal had made him a snack and later they had played with his cars in his room) and Cal, who was clearly conscious of the huge tension in the room, forced himself into small talk. It was weird. Gillian hoped Lewis wouldn't notice. He had enough problems of his own without feeding on yet more strained atmosphere (the daily accidents had ceased but there was still the occasional need for a change of sheets in the morning). And yet sometimes he was unnervingly perceptive. He helped stack the plates and knives and forks into the dishwasher, while Cal did the heavier pans and Gillian went up to change. When she came back she sent Lewis away to play (twisting her hands at the wrist) because she and Dad (hand by the forehead) needed to talk (index finger twirled around by the mouth); Lewis dutifully obliged.

Gillian headed for the formal living room, Cal in tow, taking in the mess of photo albums over the couch and table. She took a seat and pulled Cal to sit down next to her. She didn't feel dread, or nerves, but not resignation either. She knew the conversation had to be had, and that eventually it was going to, but perhaps she hadn't countered on it being sprung on her now. Not that she'd given any thought as to how she was going to lead into it. She supposed now was as good a time as any.

Cal faced her on the middle seat of the couch, expectant but waiting patiently. Gillian wondered where she should start. The story went back so far. Everything in their marriage had been tied up with and culminated in Lily, in some way or another.

"When?" Cal asked quietly.

"A few years ago," Gillian admitted, grateful that he had started. And then she stalled again. Now what?

"How did she die?"

"In her sleep," Gillian responded glumly. It still hurt.

"Are we gonna play twenty questions?"

Gillian shook her head, looked up at him from her hands. "No. Sorry. I should have told you about it sooner but I just..." She shook her head, gathered her thoughts. "I got a phone call. From the agency Alec and I were registered with. There was some sort of clerical error that meant we were still on their books." Her voice shook slightly and so she paused to gather together some strength. "A young woman had seen the profile. She wanted to meet me. Us," she corrected quickly. "You and me. I called them to tell them I wasn't with Alec any more but with you." She raised her eyebrows in emphasis. Cal sat still. "She wanted to meet us anyway." Gillian gave a slight sigh.

"And I knew you didn't want to do it," she blurted out. "I know you only did it for me because it was my dream. Because it was something I wanted." Cal's expression didn't waiver so she kept on, getting back to the narrative. "I wanted more kids. We both wanted more and this was just, she was an opportunity I couldn't give up. I couldn't just ignore it when it was basically falling in my lap. We met the birth mother and she was just so mature and made her decision consciously and it just all seemed so perfect, you know?"

Cal watched her impassively.

"I thought it was meant to be but I knew you were struggling with the idea of adoption so I just pushed through it. It's a complicated subject and it carries so much baggage for me and I know you did it for me." Her voice got more emotional as she talked but she didn't break into tears. She couldn't even feel them nearby.

"We couldn't have more kids ourselves?"

Gillian shook her head. "The IVF was so hard. It was just..." she paused again, searched the room for the right words. "So hard," she repeated. "We did two cycles and they just about broke me." She felt a little ashamed at her weakness. "The second time we thought the IVF hadn't even worked. The fact that I was pregnant with Lewis was just..." she realised she was getting off track. "We couldn't do it again. We decided not to. It was just too much."

Cal nodded. "How old was she?" He didn't have to finish the sentence or mention a name.

"Three months."

Cal's face managed to soften even though it was already slack.

"I knew, as soon as I woke up. It was too quiet. She cried all the time and when I woke up and it was too quite I just knew. I knew there was something wrong," Gillian rambled. "I picked her up and she was cold and I just knew. She was gone." She didn't cry and she was amazed. She hadn't been this calm talking about the subject of Lily's death until now. "All of it felt for nothing. It felt like I was being punished."

"Hey," Cal interjected softly. "I'm sure afta what happened with Sophie it might feel like that."

"It really did," Gillian told him honestly. "I felt cheated. Like I had gone through all of that. We had gone through all of that. And she was just..." Again, the corner of the roof seemed the safest place for her gaze to land. "So small."

There was a heavy silence.

"And I had put you through all of that," Gillian pressed on, because she needed to tell him about other things and it was all related. All of it. "After everything." Her gaze flickered back over to him. "I did something stupid." He stared at her, stilling again so she plunged on. "Before that, when we were finding out about Lewis's hearing loss there were symptoms and I was so sure... I thought I was pregnant again." She gave a little wince. "But no." She looked down at her lap. "And I was devastated Cal. Really devastated." He watched her carefully, she could sense it even though she wasn't looking directly at him. "And with Lewis it was just all so much. And so I left." She couldn't look at him. He didn't move, she could see that out of the corner of her eyes, but she thought she heard an intake of breath. A sharp one. Shock. "I shouldn't have done it. I'm so not proud of running away. But after everything with Sophie and the IVF and then finding out there might be something wrong with Lewis and I felt like that was my fault and on top of that the miscarriage and then finding out there wasn't any chance of having more kids." She trailed off and dared to look up at him. His expression was in that slightly soft phase again but he still didn't move or say anything and normally she would be completely unnerved by that but somehow it made it easier. He wasn't reacting. He wasn't trying to make her feel better, nor was he subtly giving out vibes of anger or distaste. He was just listening. Letting her talk. Letting her ramble on and not make sense.

"How long did you go for?" Cal asked quietly, letting her know he was still engaged in the conversation.

"Just a few days. As soon as I'd gone I regretted it. I just needed space to deal. Or I thought I needed space. To put things back into perspective. I needed that. But running away was wrong. Especially when Lewis needed me."

Did it strike Cal too that she could be talking about their current situation, him? She understood why he needed to go. She had been there herself. And now, she hoped, he would understand why she was willing to be so empathetic. She wasn't going to punish him for needing some time and space. But she had made a valid point: Lewis needed her. And Lewis needed his father too. And normally, her quick witted husband would pick up on that immediately. But perhaps he needed her to be more obvious with it now. She was starting to see; she was starting to figures things out too. About how they were going to be now. But sooner or later, they were going to have a conversation about Lewis; especially if she didn't see things start to change. Well they were changing, he had made some effort today.

"Where?" He pressed. Maybe he had missed it.

"New York?" Gillian said it like it was a question. Or perhaps she was asking him if he'd heard of the city. Or worse, if he remembered it. "My friend Casey moved there and I went to stay with her for just a few days." When he didn't say anything she continued. "I just felt so cheated by this whole kid's thing. Everything with Alec. And then getting pregnant to you. I didn't even know. And I lost the baby. I didn't even realise. At the time. And that started it all off. All of it. It's me."

She still wasn't crying. She wasn't really even making sense either but Cal didn't seem confused (surely he must be). He seemed to be listening. She was aware of her heart pounding, the only indication that she was emotionally invested in this conversation herself. Laid out like that... it was all so much. And she was right though, all of it had been her fault. The miscarriage had lead to the IVF. The IVF led to Lewis. His complicated birth was also her fault. And if she just hadn't pushed to have a baby of her own then Lewis wouldn't have been hurt. She wouldn't have hurt Cal by running to New York. And if she hadn't done that, then Lily's adoption would not have been such a big deal and Cal wouldn't have got sick. And even if he had, she would have been there for him. Like she should have been.

"Gill," Cal said but nothing more.

"I wasn't there for you," she went on. "When you were sick. We were in the middle of the adoption and you were sick. It was like you weren't even sick. There was no hormone therapy, no chemo. You had surgery one day and it was over the next and you came home. And I was so worried about the baby and myself, not getting lost in the adoption, that I did. I let you down."

Cal's hand finally came across to her lap and he slid his fingers within her grasp, forcing his way, so she was hanging on to him like a baby gripping their father's much bigger index finger.

"And I let Lewis down because the hearing loss is also my fault and when he needed me the most, he was just a little boy, I bailed on him when I should have been there. During his birth, my blood pressure dropped and his umbilical cord collapsed and he didn't get enough air. That was me." Gillian stopped. Took a steadying breath. She wasn't sure this conversation (if she could call it that) was comprehensible. It barely bordered on logical and she wondered if Cal could follow the whole tirade. Everything had come out in a rush of barely coherent thoughts but she had said it. All of it. That was all of it right? That was the truth of it. Of them. That was everything? Had she missed anything out? Was it ironic that she couldn't remember?

"Geeze Gill," Cal sighed himself. "You weren't kiddin'." He paused, his blue eyes steady on hers, no signs of judgement or anger. A hint of careful pain if anything. "We _have_ been through a lot."


	51. Chapter 51

Gillian gave a slight laugh out of nerves or perhaps it was a sob. Her grip tightened on Cal's fingers and suddenly he was lifting their clasped hands up and pulling her towards him in a hug. "I'm sure none of that made sense," she murmured into his shoulder, her back aching with leaning over so far. She didn't care though, she would take this embrace from him even if it were only half of what she really craved.

"It made sense to me," Cal offered. His hand rubbed her leg, their hands still joined. "It made perfect sense." They were silent for a moment. "I'm sorry Gill. I'm sorry I don't rememba it. It seems like such a slap in the face."

"It's not your fault," she sighed.

"No but that doesn't soften the blow does it? To both of us."

Gillian felt her stomach settle heavily into her abdomen. That was a very good point. This had happened to both of them. With those words they were somehow more united than before. They were both victims of this tragedy and they would need to, and really should, lean on each other to get through it. Sure, in the hospital, they talked and they had almost been on the same side, but that was just not the same as this rushed explanation. This was a much deeper weaving of their worlds together. This is what it had felt like when they had first fallen in love. Gillian remembered. They had slowly but surely intricated their lives together, their souls, until they were inseparable, unbreakable. She wondered if Cal felt the same way right now. Perhaps her theory was not perfect. Back then she had known he was falling for her. She could see it on his face, his demeanour, the very decisions he made every day. But now, he was a much harder read. The mask wasn't back in place (maybe he had forgotten about it), it was just the sheer lack of reaction on his part that meant she couldn't tell what he was thinking anymore. Probably what he was thinking was: huh?

"Gill," Cal breathed. He pushed her back a little and she was confused by the intimate way he said her name and the gesture of distance. But he wasn't looking at her when she saw his face, but over her shoulder slightly. She turned her head. Lewis was hovering. She gave him a smile.

"Hi."

"Hi Mum," Lewis responded quietly.

Gillian opened her arm to suggest that he should come in for a snuggle too and he was quick to take her up on the offer. She kissed the top of his head as he curled into her lap, his knees up around his chin, his elbows folding up against his body, his hands gripping fistfuls of her shirt. It was summer and the hemisphere was hot but Lewis's little body was warm against hers in a comforting familiar kind of way. Cal's arm was still over hers, along the back of the couch so she shifted her hand to stroke the soft hairs of his forearm. His gaze was steady on hers but it seemed less intense all of a sudden. He wasn't gauging her reactions anymore, or staring like he had never seen her before; he was relaxed, like he knew her and wasn't worried any longer. Gillian realised she wasn't worried anymore. She stroked her son's hair.

"What's up with you?" She asked Lewis gently. He turned his head to look up at her with his blue eyes.

"It's lonely," he told her.

"Playing alone?"

He nodded.

"Shall I come upstairs and play trains with you for a little while?" And she realised she had gotten used to it being the two of them too easily. She was disregarding Cal. Who was sitting right opposite her, his leg pressing tightly against hers, the warmth of his torso detectable despite the lump of a four year old in her lap between them. Lewis nodded again, much more vigorously. "Maybe Daddy can come with us too?" She suggested gently. Lewis hesitated, but nodded nonetheless and when Gillian looked up Cal's expression had softened into a smile.

**PJ**

"Geeze she just opened her mouth and it all came out. All of it. Like a bloody flood. Like she must have been holdin' on to that for foreva," Cal exploded. His conversation with Gillian last night had been rolling around his mind from the moment he stepped down from the kiss at the door (yeah he got goodnight kisses now. The cabbie teased him about his mistress and Cal had growled that that was his _wife_ which was code for 'back off'). That confession of hers kept him awake most of the night, tossing and turning and just going over it and over it and over it. "No wonda she was choosin' the right time to tell me. If she had told me all of that at the start, when I just woke up, or when I was in rehab, she was right, I would have flipped out. I _am_ flippin' out," Cal ranted. "Fuck! You should have heard it. One thing afta the otha afta the next. So much... just..." he floundered for the right word, a nasty reminder that he wasn't a hundred percent yet. "Stuff. _So_ much stuff." He stopped, out of air, his heart still wild and looked over at the doctor who was sitting passively in his leather chair.

Wu folded his hands into his lap. "So you talked."

"God yeah did we talk. No I mean, Gillian talked and I listened but she _really_ talked and I was actually _really_ listenin'," the concept still seemed to surprise him.

"How did that make you feel?"

"Geeze, I don't know," Cal muttered at the cliché. He gave a little wince, forced himself to come up with some kind of answer. "Ovawhelmed. Grateful she told me. Amazed at her strength and bravery. Stunned at all the shit we've gone through. God awful for not rememberin' it. Sickened that she's now alone in it. Want me to go on?"

"Only if you have something to add."

Cal took a steadying breath. "No, I don't have anythin' to add."

They fell silent for a moment.

"I just mean, good lord, the sheer volume of crap afta crap, tons of it and then she blames herself. She took responsibility like it was all her and I can't really even argue against that cos, what do I know? I don't know any betta." He stumbled into silence again. It was taunting him, mocking that he couldn't put together coherent thoughts anymore.

"I thought it would be me," he added wistfully, like that could make it better. Like that would somehow soften the blow. This reality wouldn't seem so topsy turvy if just one thing remained the same. He tended to mess up; Gillian was the one who had her shit together."That I would have done somethin'." He waved a hand, searched for the words. "I can't believe how I was there for her."

"Why does that surprise you?" Doctor Wu prompted.

"Because," Cal started. "That's not me. I'm not usually that kind of guy."

"What kind of guy were you?"

Cal noted the precise tense the psychologist used. It implied he thought Cal had changed. He was like Gillian, in a position to make a distinction. He had seen Cal 'before' hadn't he? Or had witnessed a change of some sort, perhaps even encouraged it. In their discussions so far, Cal hadn't exactly pinned the other man down to any specific details of what they had discussed before. He had merely backed up Gillian's timeline. He seemed to be more interested in talking to Cal about the current problem. Cal supposed that was fair enough. And he seemed to give a toss less about finding out about it as well. This new arrangement seemed to be working so very well for him right now he was content to let it go.

"Oh you know," Cal responded softly but casually as if this were no big deal. "The kind that ran away from signs of emotional difficulties."

Doctor Wu didn't respond.

"I neva used to deal with anythin'."

Cal was silent again, for a few long seconds while he thought about what that really meant. What it really meant was: he had changed. For Gillian or because of Gillian. For the sake of being with her or being in love. He had wanted more children with her. He had wanted a life. He'd asked her to marry him hadn't he? After he had sworn off women and marriage after Zoe. (Zoe! There was a face he hadn't seen in a while.) After he had vowed he would never let anyone get close to him again because they always just left him hurt. Like his mother had.

"I guess the question is," Cal spoke aloud again. "Am I still that man?"

"Which man?"

"The man who doesn't deal, who pushes people away."

"Would you like my opinion?"

"Why not," Cal responded warily. "I pay for your opinion don't I?"

"I'd say the fact that you're here means you want to deal. And the fact that you're talking about Gillian and with Gillian means you're not pushing her away."

Cal studied the doctor for a moment.

"You could have run a mile, like you said, after she gave you all of that information," Wu explained carefully.

"Right fair point," Cal agreed.

"Do you want to talk about what she told you?"

"What about it?"

"Why don't you tell me what it is exactly that you've been through?"

Cal took a deep breath. He had written this down, from what he remembered of their conversation, to keep the timeline straight in his mind. "From the beginnin'?"

Wu nodded solemnly.

"The very beginnin'?" Cal clarified. When the psychologist nodded again and gathered up his notes and a pen, Cal launched into it. "We broke up cos she wanted to be a mother and I didn't want to have more kids. When the adoption thing failed we ended up back together, and ended up getting married. Gillian got pregnant, but had no idea and miscarried. Then we agreed to IVF to have a kid anyway, but only two cycles. Which was horrendous, apparently. But she did get pregnant and we had Lewis, who, through a complication of his birth, has hearin' loss. Durin' the time we were figurin' that out, Gill ran away for the weekend cos she found out she was menopausal and saw her chances at mothahood again goin' right down the drain, even though she hadn't actually said she wanted to try for anotha baby. Then," Cal paused to think. "There was an adoption and I had cance-a. Afta the baby came home she died of cot death. And that pretty much brings us to this." He gestured in front of him. Of course, there were smaller details in there he didn't know about or couldn't quite recall. God only knew how they got back together that first time, or how she had gotten pregnant or how they had discovered Lewis might have hearing loss in the first place.

Doctor Wu's face slowly stilled until his mouth hung open slightly as Cal finished. "Intense huh?" Cal asked him.

The psychologist was quiet for a moment. "You certainly have a history."

Cal shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah a lot of history."

"And that puts you off?"

"No," he responded slowly, honestly. "It's ovawhelmin' sure but it's just more like... I don't know." He huffed. "I don't know what it means." It meant too many things, that's what it meant. It meant that Gillian had finally been truthful with him and told him everything (which was a big step forward in their current relationship). It meant his theory about being a different man was correct (so he really did have something to live up to). It meant they were tied by a rich and complicated history (and had walked out the other side of it still united). It meant they could do it again if they had to (it meant they had to).


	52. Chapter 52

"I can't shake this feelin' that I've right royally fucked it up."

"How so?" Doctor Wu asked in his perfectly neutral voice.

"I see it two ways. The accident wasn't my fault, and the lack of memory isn't my fault, nor is the fact that they haven't really come back, but I'm still responsible for how I've been dealin' with it."

"Well," Wu started. "You are responsible for your behaviours."

"Yeah I know that but I can just..." he stopped. Searched for the right words. He hated that his brain did not work the way it used to. It was slowing him down. He felt betrayed. "I feel," he tried again. Ah piss it, may as well say what was on his mind. It wasn't like Wu was his wife, it wasn't like he was going to be judged here. "It feels like Gillian's punishin' me. I can see it in her eyes. She blames me."

"What for in particular?"

"For not bein' at home."

"That was your doing," Wu pointed out gently.

"You think I should go home?"

"I don't think you should do anything you're not comfortable with."

Cal almost rolled his eyes. "Right, thank you, I shouldn't do anythin' I'm not comfortable with and yet Gill wants me home and has made it clear she wants me home and even though she hasn't said anythin' I know she's disappointed and she's pissed off with me for not bein' there." Cal paused briefly and went on, knowing he sounded like he was ranting now but actually feeling better already for getting it out. "But what does she want me to do? Just pretend like nothin' eva happened? Does she not want me to get to a place where I can actually be there, willingly, and not feel like I've fallen down the bloody rabbit hole?" He stopped. Suddenly, his chest felt tight. Was he freaking out? He took a deep steadying breath.

Doctor Wu sat stoically in his chair, his face and body language neutral. He made a few short notes on his pad but otherwise said nothing. After a moment's silence he asked, "Why do you worry so much what she thinks?"

"She's my wife."

"But you don't remember that part. Marrying her," Wu expounded.

"No."

"So technically, you're not obligated. At least emotionally."

"Right," Cal agreed. This sounded like an argument he had had with himself, a discussion he and Gillian had dusted over.

"So you could easily just walk away."

'_But_,' Cal pouted. "I could," he mused. Wu had trapped him into a corner. Sneaky bastard. Cal didn't want to walk away. And if he said it aloud then the doctor won and how Cal hated to lose. Or was this meant to be a lesson on how to swallow his pride?

"What was the other way?"

"The other what?"

"The other way you see it," Wu prompted. "When you came in, you said you saw this two ways."

Cal thought for a moment. This was going to sound worse. "I'm a complete victim here," he muttered, feeling uncomfortable. He wanted to say he was above reproach but the truth was he couldn't remember his meagre argument for that case and more importantly Wu had made a very good point just now. He had just driven home something Cal had thought himself. He could just walk away from it all. Gillian had suggested the same. Cal could just walk away. He couldn't. And leave Lewis? When he was just starting to get to know him and see how wonderful he was and interesting and his capacity for love and all those things he found so interesting.

"All right fine," Cal grumped. "I don't wanna leave. I don't wanna leave my kid and I don't wanna leave my wife." He refused to meet Wu's eyes but could feel the doctor nodding out of the corner of his eyes. Silence stretched out and Cal didn't know what to say.

"How do you think you've messed it up?" Wu finally prompted.

"Cos," Cal pouted again. He took a deep breath; let it out with a sigh. Fuck he hated therapy. "Because," he tried again. "This whole incident, with the accident and with me bein' in hospital, it's been three months now."

He paused. What did he want to say? How did he articulate?

"And it feels like..."

It felt like shit, that's what it felt like. Utter shit. All fits and starts. His body was getting better but his mind was not. His relationship with Lewis was improving greatly, but the same could not be said with Gillian.

"It just feels like I've blown it."

**PJ**

"Cal?"

"Yeah I'm here." He gave an inaudible groan and rolled over on to his side, noting how much easier it was to do that now.

"I was wondering what you had planned for today?"

"Oh you know, the usual," he responded absently as he sat up and studied the sterile motel room.

"Oh ok," Gillian sounded slightly disappointed.

"What do you need?" Cal pressed. He got up, swaying slightly as he regained his balance. That was getting easier too.

"Lewis was sick in the night and I want to keep him home but I really need to go to work."

"You need a babysitta?"

"Well yes," she agreed. "But that doesn't seem right."

"What doesn't?" Cal interrupted.

"Asking you to babysit your own son."

"Yeah well, that's our life," he responded softly as he headed for the bathroom. "And I'll get dressed and head right ova. Not a problem."

"Thank you so much," she sounded relieved.

"Won't be long," Cal promised and hung up. He was at their house within twenty five minutes and knocked without thinking. Then belatedly pulled his keys from his pocket. Just as he was finding the right one the door opened. Gillian seemed harassed and she looked tired. She gave him a brief smile. Cal held the keys up. "I can't rememba which one."

Gillian took his hand, curling her fingers around his and the keys. She took them from him as he stepped inside and she closed the door. She flipped through expertly as they headed down the hall and held up the correct key for him. He took it, preparing to twist it off the bunch so he could keep it separate, remember it. "I really appreciate this Cal. I know you have places to be."

He waved his hand to dismiss the comment. "Doesn't hurt me to miss a little physical therapy." He shot her a grin. "Day off would do me good to be honest."

Gillian barely managed a smile in response. Cal stopped her. "This stuff with work," his hand tightened around her arm slightly. "Should I be worried?"

"No," she responded softly. "It's nothing like that. It's a personnel issue. But I'm taking care of it. I just have a meeting that I can't miss," she flicked back her sleeve to check her watch. "I have to go."

Cal nodded.

"I'll try to get home as soon as I can."

He waved his hand again, dismissing her again. "Take all the time you need. I'm not goin' anywhere."

She gave him another relieved expression.

"Where is the invalid?"

"On the couch," she moved into the kitchen and Cal followed.

"Stomach bug?"

"I think so," she kept going, towards the bench. "He was throwing up in the night."

"Probably just a twenty-four hour thing," Cal suggested.

"Yeah I hope so." She moved to a small sheet of paper, like from a notepad. "His doctor's number is there and maybe not give him anything to eat."

Cal snatched the paper out of her hands, but slowly, giving her fair warning, and she trailed off. "I've done this before."

She gave a little sigh. "Yeah I know. I just."

"You're protective, I get it."

"Smothering you mean," Gillian gave a wan smile.

"No," Cal responded carefully, aware that this was apparently a sore subject for her. This wasn't the first time she had brought it up and he did remember teasing her about it when they first met. Did they fight about it? Was this an issue for them? "I meant that, like any good mutha, you're worried about your kid. That's only right. But you do trust me right?"

"Of course I do."

"Well all right then," Cal felt satisfied. "Call if you wanna."

Gillian fought back an eye roll smirk. "I really have to go."

"Be my guest," Cal told her politely.

Gillian pushed away from the bench, taking her purse with her. She checked her phone and Cal watched the way her thoughts ran through her eyes, one by one, a mental checklist of things to do. She headed for the couch and bent down to talk to (Cal presumed, because he couldn't see him) Lewis. She gave the boy a kiss, smoothed her hand over his forehead, then straightened up once more. She approached Cal again, but this time, there were no creases of worry in her features. As she neared him Cal reached out his hand to take hers and she slowed down, a slight question on her lips. Cal pulled her closer, stepping in, the movement of their bodies aiding his quest to bring them together. He planted a kiss on her mouth, testing out the domesticity of it. It was a little thrilling. His stomach thought so.

Gillian gave him a pleased smile as they pulled away again, her fingers squeezed his twice in quick succession. Cal just gripped her back and her eyes drifted away from his, down, to glance at the floor. "I'll call you later," she told him, unthreading her fingers from his gently and heading for the kitchen door. It was only as she disappeared down the hall that Cal realised she had been disappointed. He had missed something. Something important. He pulled his notebook from his back pocket, flipped through the section for Gillian and made a notation at the bottom of the page. The hand squeezing thing was apparently a big deal to her in some way Cal couldn't comprehend.

Lewis was curled up on the couch. His eyes weren't closed but they weren't focussed either. The TV wasn't on and he had a blanket over his legs, pulled up to his waist only, like he wanted the comfort but not the warmth. Cal had never seen the kid so still. He was usually so very energetic and excited. He sat on the coffee table and Lewis's blue eyes slid over to his and regarded him woefully.

"Don't feel so good huh?" Cal asked him.

He winced and brought a hand to his forehead and one to his stomach, the hands open but with the middle finger bent slightly. Cal didn't know what that meant exactly but he supposed Lewis was agreeing with him. Cal leaned forward and brushed his fingers over the boy's forehead. His skin felt warm but not alarmingly so.

"How about tryin' to get some sleep?" Cal suggested.

Lewis nodded pitifully.

Cal waited until his eyes had closed and he gave a little sigh. It was then, as Cal was getting up, that he noticed Lewis didn't have his hearing aids on and had he heard anything his father had said to him? He must have. Cal pulled his notebook from his back pocket and flipped through to the section on Lewis. He scanned over his notes to the part where he had written down the range Lewis heard in. Gillian suggested he heard conversations in normal tones but not always the clarity of words. And certain pitches were nonexistent. But she had also explained to him that they had made a choice. Lewis would wear the hearing aids at all times, even if he didn't need them for every second of the day. Just like if he was short sighted, he would be wearing his glasses all day every day to get used to them. So that he understood their significance. He could use the hearing aids at his discretion when he was older.

Whatever.

Cal didn't really have a basis on which to argue against her. What she said sounded good. In theory. It sounded logical. He used to wear his glasses a lot to get used to them. Particularly when he was learning to read facial twitches. Had to be able to see all those little details nice and clearly. Cal got up again, headed towards the kitchen bench and stopped. What was he going to do if Lewis was taking a nap?

**PJ**

Cal felt like he was snooping. It really felt like he was sneaking through Gillian's underwear drawer (he was still yet to do that) but he wasn't. He wasn't even upstairs. He was in the formal living room. He was opening cupboards in the bottom of a tall display cabinet, which held shelves behind glass doors for alcohol vessels on either side of a wine rack. The wine rack was half full. The cupboards for the drinking vessels were chocker. A blend of two collections, surprisingly similar, but amalgamated nonetheless. But Cal was digging in the cupboards beneath, where he had just discovered (or rediscovered) a music collection. Records, tapes, CD's. And all of it, well at least most of it, was his. So this wasn't really snooping was it?

Cal lowered himself to the floor. So many memories! All this vinyl, took him back to his childhood, to growing up in London. The tapes; the eighties, war and spying and writing his dissertation. The CD's; Emily as a baby, his marriage, a veritable timeline of his life in albums. And then they stopped abruptly and he wondered why? MP3's probably. Where was the soundtrack for his life with Gillian? Cal turned is head to look around the room. What he needed now was something to play all this music on. Music and photos, sounded like a great afternoon to him.

Cal stood again, moving awkwardly. He shifted around the couch. The room was decorated formally, tastefully, beautiful wooden cabinets and bookshelves. The coffee table was so dark it was almost black. The couches, well they were Cal's, those deep chocolate brown, set off against the natural wood and the warm cream of the carpet. In the corner was a smaller cabinet, which another TV sat on. Beneath it were racks for DVD's hidden behind more cupboard doors (Cal had already had a look) and a TiVo unit. But was there a stereo? Cal turned to check the opposite corner. There was surround sound set up for the TV, the cords hidden beneath the carpet, out of sight. And yes, hiding behind that floor to ceiling bookshelf was a small stereo unit. He went to it and lifted the lid. It played vinyl! And now that he looked closer, tapes and CD's and even MP3's.

Cal picked out a handful of records and went back across the room, turning the stereo on and setting the turntable, lifting the needle very gently and placing it on the first track. He sighed as the opening strains of The Who's _Baba O'Reilly_ started. This took him back. Way back. He was just a wee kid when this came out. What he remembered most about it was his mother played it. She had the radio on all the time, telling him about the lyrics and the politics. Music had been the way his mother communicated. She loved all those mellow pop rock songs. The Beatles. The Who. Elton John. The Rolling Stones. (It was Cal's rebellion that led him to the Clash and others, what his mother called 'that loud music' or when she was angry with him, 'that obnoxious music. It's hurting my ears Calvin, turn it off!'.) She loved the romanticism of a good love song. And not just the obvious ones, she could find something sweet in the most innocent of lyrics.

Cal made sure the volume was turned down low, so Lewis wouldn't be disturbed in the next room. There was a staircase between them, and yeah he didn't have his hearing aids on but Cal just wasn't sure what would get through. It was better to be safe. He went to his stack of photo albums and pulled the top book over. Lily's book.


	53. Chapter 53

Cal had Elton John on by the time the red cheeked slumped figure of his son appeared. He gestured for Lewis to come and sit with him, moving carefully to tuck the boy under his arm. He asked him if he felt better. Lewis nodded yes. But he didn't say much. And Cal was starting to learn that he often didn't talk when he was upset or unhappy. Perhaps that was his little way of rebelling. Gillian had told Cal Lewis didn't start talking for a long time. And not without some intensive therapy.

'_You and me both_,' Cal rubbed his hand over Lewis's hair gently. The therapy bit. With his left hand he brought the photo album up closer. Gillian had prints, glossy ones, like real photos, but all perfectly framed within the image, no one blinking, no red eyes, no glares. The pictures had clearly been touched up, cropped, designed. They were beautiful and flawless but still, wonderful all the same. Especially for Cal, seeing those moments, those faces, for the first time. Lewis looked like Gillian from birth. Lily looked so clearly like someone else. There would never have been confusion over whether she was theirs. Cal had noticed Lily's photos had been segregated to her book only. In the other family albums, Cal was up to the ones where Lewis was about two.

Against his side, the little boy shifted slightly. He didn't feel so hot anymore and Cal figured a little extra sleep had been very good for him. It was always his number one 'go-to' when he was ill. Sleep it off. He will try Lewis with some water for lunch and if he managed to keep that down, some dry toast. Lewis shifted some more, straightening up and repositioning his head against Cal's shoulder to see better.

Lewis was two and his hair was blonde and just about curled into ringlets and he was so damn cute Cal felt something in his chest that had to be a memory asserting itself. Lewis was standing in the middle of the hallway (a different house, not this house), a finger pointing (his left hand) at the camera, a squeal plain on his face, his mouth open to reveal neat little white teeth, his eyes scrunched up in a grin. Underneath that image was one of Lewis in the same hallway, this time stark naked, running away from the camera, but looking over his shoulder slightly as he departed (Cal didn't know that as soon as the picture was taken Lewis took a nose dive into the carpet, burning his chin).

"Now _who_ is that rude boy?" Cal gestured to the picture with his left hand.

"That's me," Lewis responded.

"Where are your clothes?" Cal teased.

"Gone," Lewis supplied innocently. He moved his hands, so the fingers of his right were encompassed by the left, then he slipped the fingers downwards, out of the grasp.

"Look at that little bare bottom," Cal continued, raising the pitch of his voice to show his amusement.

"Dad," Lewis complained good-naturedly.

"Makes me just want to give it a pinch."

Lewis laughed and swatted at Cal's hand, the one pointing to Lewis in the photo. He reached out to turn the page. "Oi! I wasn't finished."

"Turn it," Lewis told him, moving to grip the thick page with both hands.

"I'm looking!" Cal complained with a laugh. Lewis was surprisingly strong. Or perhaps it was just because he had the advantage of surprise. They wrestled for a moment; Cal obviously not trying very hard.

"Oh look!" Lewis had a hand under the page now. "Look at this Dad!"

Cal chuckled and let his son try to distract him and turn the page.

"Who's that?" Lewis asked him, looking up, successfully changing the subject.

"That's me," Cal looked at the picture. Christmas. He felt his stomach quiver. He loved Christmas. Wait, did he? When had that happened? Christmas always reminded him of what he had lost; his mother and his first family. Christmas reminded him that he was alone.

"That's you and Mum."

"Yeah it is," Cal looked down at the picture. One of those pictures he had taken himself, his arm extending away to the left corner of the image, Gillian's head pressed close against his, their cheeks touching. The flash of the camera had lit up her eyes into a brilliant blue and it was possible to make out every freckle and line of her skin and good lord she had never looked more beautiful. Cal felt himself suck in a sudden breath as he stared into her eyes.

"Mum's verr pitty," Lewis told Cal.

He nodded in response, couldn't find his voice. She was positively glowing in this photograph and he couldn't rip his eyes away from hers; not without some actual physical damage. God, she was his wife? The rest of the page was plastered with images of their family at Christmas. Lewis in a mound of wrapping paper and new toys, his face red with over excitement. Cal felt like he could get sucked into the photos. He wished he would get sucked into those photos so he could experience them for himself. But he had, previously, and he figured that Christmas just served to remind him of what he had lost.

"I like this song," Lewis suddenly announced. He brought his hand to his chest, fingers flat, palm against his ribs and moved it away, bringing his middle finger to meet his thumb.

"Do you?" Cal asked him. Lewis nodded. Cal wondered how he could hear it. Lewis hummed the tune absently (badly) and looked up at his father expectantly. Cal felt like he was supposed to now do something in reaction. But he was lost. "I like this song too," Cal told him. "It's one of my favourites. Shall we put your hearin' aids on so you can hear it betta?"

Lewis watched him for a moment and then nodded. He climbed off the couch slowly and turned back to wait for his father to also get to his feet. When Cal did he took his hand and led him from the room.

Lewis dragged Cal upstairs to his bedroom. There were toys strewn across the floor, trucks, dinosaurs and lego. The path to the bed was sort of clear, if Cal watched where he put his feet. Lewis pushed him down on the tangle of blankets and mattress. There were two pillows, one was mashed into the gap between the wall and bed, the other was strangulated by the bed sheet. '_Good lord_,' Cal thought to himself as he tried to discern what was what in the mess.

Lewis raced to his book shelf and stood on the bottom one to reach up to the very top. He struggled a little to grasp his fingers around the case, but eventually he managed and raced back over to his father, shoving the case into his hands (clearly, he felt better). Cal felt a flicker of panic; he didn't know what to do and Lewis was obviously waiting for him to move. To do something. Take charge of something?

Lewis leaned in and opened the case, his fingers around Cal's. "Here," he started, now pushing Cal's hands out of the way. "It goes like this," he took one out, the black one and held it up to his ear, the right way around. He pressed it into Cal's hand and turned his head to offer his ear. Cal raised the hearing device up and placed it awkwardly to his son's ear, figuring out how it was meant to fit as he went along. Lewis waited patiently, his little hands gripping Cal's knees as he stood between his legs. When Cal thought he was finished, Lewis lifted his hand and made one last adjustment. Then he turned his head again to look at his Dad. He raised his hands, palms facing the floor, one above the other and brought them together.

"I don't," Cal started. He felt like crying all of a sudden. An overwhelming flash of grief, confusion, isolation and fear. He didn't know how to take care of his son. Not in the way he needed.

Lewis studied him for a moment. He brought his hand up to Cal's cheek and gave it a gentle pat. "Ok shhh?" He told him, shifting his hand to pet Cal's temple. "Betta now."

Cal didn't understand what he meant exactly, but that he was trying comfort his father and that was even more overwhelming than before. This kid was sweet. And apparently quite smart. Or perhaps Gillian had told their son about his father's memory loss and he had understood and she had just not mentioned it to Cal. He was going to have to ask her about it. But he wasn't going to pull his notebook out in front of Lewis to make a note. He didn't want to draw more attention to the fact that he didn't remember. Not in front of his son. It was just too cruel. For Cal.

Lewis picked out the other aid and showed Cal the button and then turned his head again so Cal could press the little button on the device he was already wearing. Cal did so and Lewis turned back to face him with a wide smile. "Now this one," Lewis gave him the other device, the blue one. Cal fixed it against the other ear and turned it on. Lewis gave him a grin. "Good job!"

"Thanks," Cal responded despondently.

Lewis leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his father. Cal put his arms easily around the smaller body, his arms overlapping enough to reach his elbows again. Lewis squeezed so Cal squeezed back until Lewis squealed and pushed at his father to be let go. "Dad I hungy."

"Ok, shall we try some toast?" Cal asked as he started getting to his feet. They headed downstairs. Lewis didn't exactly run, but he certainly seemed to be more energetic. He climbed awkwardly to a bar stool and leaned so far over the edge of the bench he was just about in Cal's lap again as he found bread and put it in the toaster. He explained to Lewis that he had to have dry toast only, with nothing on it, because the bugs in his tummy would love all the sweetness of jam and the yummy fat of butter and get strong again. Lewis watched him solemnly as Cal talked. Cal shifted the chopping board closer and found a knife from the drawer. "But I'll make you somethin' very special that will help you get betta ok?"

Lewis nodded again, trusting, and watched as Cal retrieved the toast from the machine and put it down on the board. He cut the toast into strips and then put them on a plate. He told Lewis they were soldiers. That they were going to help fight the bugs off for him so he would be better again. Lewis seemed dubious but he ate the toast, slowly at first but eventually he was munching away nonchalantly. Cal poured him some water from the bottle in the fridge and made himself toast as well. He cut his into soldiers too. Helped them go down just that little bit easier. An old trick; I want what Daddy has.

When Cal had finished cleaning the kitchen, with Lewis watching on, he wondered what they were going to do next. "Shall we go back and listen to the music?" He suggested, hoping Lewis would be up for it. It was probably boring for a four year old but Cal didn't really want him running around the house and getting over excited. Nor was Cal up for sitting through yet another installation of '_Cars'_.

But Lewis nodded and Cal noticed the colour had washed out of his face as he said, "Daddy my tummy feels funny."

'_Uh oh_,' Cal thought. He moved around the breakfast bar to where his son was leaning on the stool, worried now that he had let Lewis eat before he should have. He put his hand to Lewis's cheeks, his forehead, but he didn't feel warm. "Do you think you might be sick?" He asked cautiously. Lewis gave him a grimace but shook his head. "How about comin' to lie with me on the couch and we can listen to music quietly?" Lewis nodded his head in response and reached out his arms for Cal's neck. Cal lifted him, not entirely easily, but was pleased that he could. He walked slowly to the other living room, not able to move quickly anyway, but also not wanting to jostle the boy, just in case. It would not be the first time he had been thrown up on by a child of his, but he didn't relish the thought of it nonetheless.

Vinyl was unique. The way it smelt, the way it sounded, the way it took Cal back to certain moments of his past. But the records were too short and certainly not as compact and precise as a greatest hits disc. Cal didn't want to have to keep getting up, so set a CD to play, turning the volume down a little as the quality increased with the new medium. Cal went back to where Lewis was waiting for him. He sat in the middle cushion, the stack of photo albums on his left and Lewis tucked up against his right. They slowly went through the years. When Cal didn't know someone, Lewis did. He put faces to names like 'Casey' and 'Aunt Kate' and 'Grandma and Grandpa.' Gillian's parents. Now there was something interesting. Weren't they divorced? So what were they doing here together? Cosily together.

"Lewis, do Grandma and Grandpa live togetha?" Cal felt Lewis nod against his side. "You feelin' any betta buddy?" Lewis nodded his head again.

When the CD ended Cal got up to put the next one in. He removed the stack of photo albums and put them back on the shelves. He couldn't remember the order, went for chronological, didn't know if Gillian had some other system. When he turned back Lewis had lowered himself to Cal's seat, his eyes were closed and he didn't flinch as Cal sat in the seat where the photo albums had been. Cal gently lifted him up and Lewis's eyes came open. "Come on," Cal coaxed gently, shifting himself and turning Lewis so that he was lying down, with Lewis pressed against his side, sandwiched against the back of the couch, practically lying on his father's chest. Lewis gave a content sigh and turned his head to face the room. Cal could see his blue eyes searching around gently, looking, observing. His hand lay against Cal's shirt, warm, slightly clammy. Cal wondered at what point he should start getting concerned. Wasn't having something to eat meant to boost him up a little?

"I like this song," Lewis murmured. He sounded sleepy or despondent.

"This is Your Song," Cal told him. He hummed the tune and noted how Lewis's head turned against his rib cage, pressing tighter to hear the rumble of his voice in his chest. Cal's hand came up to caress the back of Lewis's head, feeling the delicate bones of his son's skull beneath the pads of his fingers; his light brown hair was thin and soft.

"_So excuse me forgetting, but these things I do_," Cal sung along lightly. "_You see I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue_."

How bloody poetic. He had almost lost Lewis. So, so close to losing him and Gillian both. Where would he be now without them? He hated to think. Probably encroaching on Emily, putting too much pressure on her for answers to his life. And maybe Gillian, if they were still friends, she might have helped him too. But it wouldn't have been right to burden Emily, which is exactly why he was living in a motel now instead of sleeping on her couch. And he realised that despite the bitter taste of leaving Gillian, he had done the right thing. Because that distance had allowed him moments like this right now, curled up on the couch with his son. It had given him perspective enough to find the psychologist and try; _really try_.

He had read Lewis's birth book twice, the passages he had written about Lewis's birth and holding him for the first time. The sheer panic, desperation, then relief and love. It came through in his words. It was obvious. And it was frightening. His baby boy. Lewis Guy Hope. What did hope mean? Who gave him the name Hope? He was going to have to ask Gillian. He hadn't already had he? He couldn't reach his notebook, not without disturbing Lewis.

"_Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen. And you can tell everybody, that this is your song_," Cal murmured along in time with the music. He couldn't explain it and perhaps the best answer was that it was simply a cellular memory, but it felt like he had known Lewis for a while. In this quiet moment, lying together, father and son; Cal felt like he had known Lewis forever. They were friends, he could see that now, by the way Lewis was around him. But he didn't have images in his head to tell him that, just a feeling. Just a feeling of peaceful easiness.

"_I hope you don't mind, that I put down in words. How wonderful life is, while you're in the world_."


	54. Chapter 54

When Gillian came home that is where she found them. On the couch together, in silence, Lewis lying across Cal's chest, his arm around the boy, the other trailing along the carpet, the tips of his fingers just touching the fibres. They both had their eyes closed, both clearly asleep. Gillian quietly pulled her phone from her bag and snapped off a picture of the peaceful pair, her heart squeezing slightly, pleased and relieved. There had been days when Lewis hid from his father upstairs. The turnaround from adoring fan to avoidance had been sharp and brutal and she had feared that it would never been rectified. She had debated over telling Cal to pull his socks up and not wanting to force anything. But here they were, proving her wrong and she was never so grateful for that. If she and Cal never worked it out again, she would be able to deal with that (she thinks), but if Cal and Lewis never reconciled she was pretty sure none of the three of them would have gotten over it.

Gillian noted the stacks of CD's and vinyl records on the floor by the cupboard where they were housed, and in front of the stereo. She could see that it was on, the screen displaying the total time for whatever disc was currently in the slot. She went over and turned the device off. The speakers popped lightly as the electrical current was severed.

"Hey," a voice croaked at her.

She turned to see Cal, eyes open, blinking against the sun, his head lifting slightly off the arm of the couch. Lewis was still sound asleep. "Hi," Gillian whispered back.

"What time is it?" Cal asked groggily, shifting a little to raise himself up. Lewis gave a small moan and snuggled his nose into Cal's rib.

"It's just before five," Gillian spoke quietly, crossing to where they lay.

"You managed to get away early," Cal noted.

"Yeah," she agreed smoothing her hand over Lewis's hair. "How's he been?"

Cal sat up even more. "All right. He had some dry toast at lunch and kept it down. Been asleep most of the aftanoon. And mornin'," he added.

"I'll take him upstairs," Gillian leaned down to scoop her arms under him.

"Nah leave him there," Cal told her, slipping awkwardly from beneath the smaller body. Lewis gave a little whine in his sleep and then snuggled into the warm couch cushions, curling his hands beneath his chest and burying his face into the material. Cal crashed into Gillian as he moved and she reached out a hand to steady him. Then they snuck from the room. Gillian pulled the doors closed. They were on runners like the kitchen doors and so she did it slowly and carefully. Cal waited for her to finish. "How was your day?" He asked when Gillian knew what he wanted to do was grill her on this work 'problem'.

"Fine," she answered him softly, kicking her shoes off by the stairs and brushing past him to head for the kitchen. She felt Cal follow after her but he didn't approach and she had a sudden pang for the days when he wouldn't leave her alone. Especially when she 'dressed up' for him. Like she had been doing almost every day since he had come home. Except he didn't seem to notice and that ate at her. She turned to face him slightly as she pulled open the fridge, looking for a distraction. "How was your day?"

"Good," Cal responded easily. "Lewis and I looked at photos." She gave him a forced smile. Cal went on, "He pointed out faces for me." Gillian's smile was more genuine this time. "Got a few questions," Cal approached and Gillian, stupidly, ducked away from him, moving around the bench to keep the distance. She felt like she was under attack. Cal looked disappointed and she immediately regretted it. Why was she being so defensive? She'd told him everything (most of everything, maybe not the finer details) and there were nothing in their family photos she would want to hide. Not really. Right?

"What are your questions," Gillian forced herself to relax, or at least not be so closed off to him. She wanted to be closer right? So why at the first signs of him showing interest was she freaking out?

"Which one of us named Lewis?"

"You did," she reminded him with an easy smile.

Cal looked blank for a second. "That's right," he responded, his face in motion again, fluid and real. "Afta my Mum."

Gillian nodded, leaned her hip against the bench and fought herself to not cross her arms over her chest.

"And then Guy?"

"I picked Guy," she supplied. "I liked the name."

Cal nodded, a little sign of amusement. "And Hope?"

Gillian knew it was coming, of course she did, and yet she didn't have a nice tidy explanation ready for him. "Hope means a lot of things," she started. Cal inched towards her, so he was just about touching her thighs now; how had he gotten so close so quickly and she hadn't noticed?

"Like?" Cal pressed.

"It means that we'll always have hope and to never forget that. It means that hope exists, is real, is tangible; it's right here with us, despite everything that has happened. It means that when we have hope we are blessed."

Cal nodded, his eyes diving into hers. Gillian felt like she was drowning in him, the world narrowing down, blinding her. Did he know he was doing this to her? Did he know she had to have some distance because even being a little bit close, like this, was driving her insane? That she wasn't sure of her self control anymore and the last, the very last, thing she wanted to do was push him before he was ready, spook him, make him run? It had to come from him and she had to be patient, she had to be careful, but she just wasn't sure she could. Seeing him cuddled up with Lewis, that was what had triggered this particular internal war. She wanted to be pressed up against his side, snuggled into his chest, his warm arm around her... she craved it.

"Sounds good."

Gillian nodded, her voice escaping her. It wouldn't take much to lean forward and kiss him. But she wanted him to do it. He was the one who had left, he was the one who had to make it right again. Just like he was the one who had to make it right with Lewis, and she could concede now that it was better he had done it on his own terms, when he was ready, instead of forcing something, which could have potentially done more damage. It wasn't like he ever treated Lewis with contempt, or as if he didn't exist, it was mostly just awkward, like he didn't know what to do with himself around the boy.

"Who named him Hope?"

"You did," Gillian responded softly.

Cal nodded. "The IVF was tough huh?"

Gillian nodded, her senses coming back as he triggered memories in her. She wanted to be able to trigger memories in him. But it didn't seem as though that was going to happen. Cal's hand shifted up to caress her arm. His gaze didn't waiver from hers. "I'm glad we did it though. Lewis is beautiful."

"He is," Gillian agreed and screw it, she leaned forward to press her lips tightly against his.

Cal's hand gripped her arm, his other cupped her jaw. Gillian's hands snaked through his hair, pressing against his ears, holding him in place as she kissed him desperately. It took a few seconds for her to gain her senses enough to realise he was kissing her back with the same fervour. He turned her into the bench and pressed his body along the length of hers. Gillian forgot to breathe and had to turn her head to get air, heat flooding through her. Cal didn't relent though, he pressed his lips against her jaw, down her neck, his hands on her hips, pulling her closer. He whispered her name against her throat, weaving delicate promises over her skin.

"Oh God!" Gillian choked out in a groan, her eyes fluttering closed, her stomach convulsing faster than her rapid heart rate.

"Mum?"

Gillian turned her head abruptly to see Lewis standing by the breakfast bar. She pushed at her husband. "Fuck!" Cal cursed softly and Gillian immediately smacked his upper arm in admonishment.

"Cal!" She warned sharply and then turned to Lewis who was rubbing his eyes. "Hey Lewis," she approached him. "Are you feeling better?" 'Better' was the fingers of her flat right hand in front of her mouth, them moving the hand up and away while closing the fingers into a fist with the thumb not encompassed. She caressed hair out of her son's eyes, thinking she should take him for a haircut.

He nodded solemnly at her. In his hand was one of his hearing aids. "Sore," he told her. He signed 'pain' with one hand, his index finger on his right hand in front of his body, pointing towards the left, giving it a twist at the wrist, while he screwed up his face in discomfort.

"Yeah," she agreed taking it. He wasn't supposed to sleep with them on, they could get damaged, and also hurt his ears. He was due for an upgrade soon; he was a growing boy. Gillian put the device on the bench, making sure it was off and straightened up again. "Are you hungry?" She made a 'c' hand and drew it from the middle of her chest, down, towards her stomach and pointed at Lewis, the question on her face. He thought for a moment and nodded his head slightly. "Daddy make you some more toast?" Gillian asked him.

"Soldiers," Lewis told her.

"Soldiers?" She was confused.

Lewis headed around her for his father and raised his arms for 'up'. Cal lifted him to his hip and Gillian was impressed with how easily he did it. He didn't struggle anymore. Or maybe he did, because he quickly put Lewis on the bench. "I'll make you some soldiers," Cal told him. "So long as you promise not to interrupt me and Mummy again," he added as he headed past Gillian. Her hand reached out to smack his shoulder again. She was too embarrassed, surprised, pleased, to give a verbal reprimand.

"Soldiers make it all betta," Lewis crooned from his perch on the bench. Gillian approached him and put him down on one of the stools.

"What are soldiers?" She asked Cal, heading back towards the fridge, really intent on that snack now.

"You'll see," he told her lightly.

She turned to stare daggers into his back. Daggers he felt. He looked at her over his shoulder as he put toast in the machine. "Are you going to make me some?"

"Depends," Cal responded heading across the kitchen again to position the wooden chopping board. "Have you been a good girl?"

"Uh huh," Gillian smirked.

Cal made Lewis 'soldiers' that he munched quite happily despite the bread being, once again, unadorned with any toppings. Gillian was in the mood to pick. She and Cal ate left over salad and cold pasta, bread and then fruit. All of them standing or sitting around the breakfast bar, talking, Lewis telling them about his day, Gillian pretending to talk about hers, Cal listening avidly to the both of them; he had nothing interesting to share. And then family time continued, they watched a movie together, Lewis picked it out, sat between them quietly, watching attentively. Cal watched Gillian. Gillian tried not to watch Cal. His fingers brushed against the base of her neck, his arm stretched over the back of the couch.

Then it was bed time and Cal took Lewis upstairs for pyjamas and teeth. Lewis was subdued, still not feeling the best, but he wasn't warm anymore and he had normal colour to his skin. Cal noticed it smelt a little like cleaning products up there, the bathroom and Lewis's room. He supervised teeth time and let Lewis sleep in shorts only; it was warm. He also left the covers off, placing just a sheet over his son's little body. Gillian came in to say goodnight, quickly, and left again. Cal went last. "Go straight to sleep," he told Lewis, following Gillian's lead of using a normal tone of voice.

"Dad, I'll be betta in morning?" Lewis looked up at him with his wide blue eyes.

"Yes," Cal nodded. "I think you'll be aaaalll betta in the mornin'." Lewis nodded as well. "So long as you get a good night's sleep," Cal went on. "And let those soldiers do their work killin' off all the nasty bugs." He leaned down to give Lewis a hug.

Lewis hooked his arms around his father's neck. "Good night Dad I luff you."

Cal felt his stomach seize into his lungs and he gasped a breath. "I love you too Lewis." He extricated his neck and beat a quick path from the room. Gillian was waiting for him in the hallway, her face concerned. She put out an arm to stop him from walking away and as she turned away from Lewis's door, pulling it almost closed as she moved, she could see Cal's head bent with tears. They dripped from his eyes onto the front of his shirt, leaving little damp freckles. She immediately wrapped both arms around him and he turned into her, burying his face in her shoulder. She walked him awkwardly down the hallway to their bedroom door and slipped inside. In the twilight she held him while he sobbed and her heart constricted with sorrow and sympathy tears burnt her eyes until she couldn't see any longer. She pressed her face to his hair and held him tighter. She thought she heard him try to say something but whatever it was, was completely incomprehensible. His grief already screamed at her. She had heard Lewis. She had heard Cal's response. She knew exactly what was going on right now and she was both pleased it was crashing over him, and also sorry it made him feel so wretched.

After a moment Gillian was aware of the damp heat of Cal's palms against her back and the fiery hot of his face against her neck. He didn't move and she wasn't even sure he was breathing. A second after that he pulled away, refusing to meet her eyes and cuffed the tears from his cheeks with his wrist. He gulped in air and Gillian took that moment to also wipe the damp from her face. "Sorry," he started, his voice unsteady, breaking.

"Don't be sorry," she told him.

"I just..." He didn't finish it and in the waning light he seemed small.

Gillian stepped towards him again. "It's ok," she told him in a whisper, snaking her arms around his waist to hug him, this time, leaning on him. She turned her head to rest against his shoulder and while he seemed to resist for a moment, his arms eventually fell heavily against her waist, holding her tightly.

"I'm just so," Cal tried again.

"You don't have to explain," Gillian told him.

"I want to," Cal struggled. "I want to explain. I want to say... I... that's the first time I've told him I love him."

Gillian felt his entire body shudder. She hadn't thought of that. Of course it wasn't but it was also true at the same time.

"I've fallen in love with him Gill."

Gillian felt silent grief open up her throat and claw its way out.

"He's so beautiful and interestin' and adorin'."

Gillian nodded against his warm skin. "He loves you." Her voice barely formed the words.

"I know," Cal whispered back. His grip tightened on her. "Thank you. For him. Thank you," he murmured. "Thank you Gill."

The grief still couldn't work its way free and Gillian shivered with the pain of it, with the raw edge of her husband's voice. Cal rocked them back and forth gently. The sun set quietly in the background, witnessing their moment just inside the doorway of their bedroom. Gillian clung on to Cal revelling in his newly found (or rediscovered) relationship with his son (as it should be, as it absolutely should be) but also despairing in the stark distance between them, husband and wife.

'_I love you too_,' she pleaded. '_Tell me you love me too_.'


	55. Chapter 55

"So they got back togetha?" Cal queried lightly. Almost disbelief. '_When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land?_' They were back downstairs. On the couch. Talking quietly. Trying, perhaps, to work on them now. Cal felt lighter than he had in a while. He knew about the accident now, he knew his son, he knew his daughter, now he needed to work out his wife. And after that, The Lightman Group. In that order of preference. Because Gillian had waited long enough. Cal had kept her waiting for too long. It was her turn. He owed her.

"Yeah," Gillian confirmed with a slight nod.

"Married?"

"No," she shook her head this time. "Not married but living together and they're _together_, together." Gillian didn't break her gaze from him. She was sitting like a love sick sixteen year old and she didn't even care. They were close enough for their thighs to be pressed together. Her hand was almost, almost on his chest. She was sitting turned in to him. His hand was almost, almost on her shoulder and she wondered at this ridiculous definition of barriers. He was her husband for god's sake and she was his wife. And why the hell were they even talking about her mother and father?

"Must be very weird," Cal noted with a mumble, picking at something on the couch. '_I should have stayed on the farm. Should have listened to my old man_.'

Cal looked up at her suddenly. "My dad," he seemed surprised. They were talking about her parents getting back together and all of a sudden he thought of his father. "Did you call my dad and tell him I'd been hurt? I assume you know his numba? I should call him and tell him I'm all right now."

Gillian's face froze with shock. "Oh," she started, blinked, watched the optimism from his face fade away.

"What?" He queried warily.

"He died Cal. I'm sorry."

"When?" He looked bewildered now. "When I was...?"

"No," she shook her head quickly. "No, years ago. Before..." She paused. She didn't keep track of how many years it had been exactly but it would be more than four. "Before Lewis was born."

"Oh," Cal repeated.

Gillian saw the regret pass over his face. Her hand quickly snagged his in his lap. "It's ok," she told him urgently. "You made amends. You both made amends. When he died, you were ok."

Cal's fingers tightened around hers. "How'd he die?"

"In his sleep," Gillian supplied. "Peacefully. It was just his time to go."

Cal nodded but his mind couldn't work the math to figure out just how old he had been at the time. He felt a little hollow. "Did you eva meet him?" He asked cautiously.

Gillian nodded. Her eyes were heavy but she hadn't made any mention of going to sleep yet. She would not be the one to break this moment. "Yes. You took me to London to meet him. You're a lot like him."

Cal gave a slight smile. "Yeah I've heard that." And then he realised Gillian was yawning. He pulled back his wrist for his watch, which was still missing.

"Sorry," Gillian quickly apologised.

"It's late," Cal told her. He dug in his pocket for his phone instead. It was nearing midnight, which wasn't really that late in the scheme of things, but, Cal deduced she had been up in the night with Lewis and so was understandably exhausted.

"I'll take you back to the motel," Gillian volunteered and then paused. "I'd have to wake Lewis."

"No don't wake Lewis," Cal told her gently. "He needs to sleep."

"I'll call you a cab."

"Well," Cal's hand stayed her. His fingers brushed over the bare skin of her arm, releasing his grip slowly. "If you don't mind."

He had her attention now. "The spare room is still made up for you," Gillian offered in a small voice.

"I was gonna ask, if you don't mind, to sleep with you. Upstairs. In your bed. Our bed," he quickly corrected, his face earnest. "If you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind," Gillian breathed around a tight chest.

"No funny business though," Cal warned her lightly, his blue eyes unblinking in their teasing. "You keep your hands to yourself."

Gillian gave a slight laugh, the tension easing again. "I'm not the one who gets handsy in my sleep," she shot back as she stood.

"That's not how I rememba it," Cal retorted as he got to his feet too. He stumbled into Gillian, not paying enough attention to where she was standing. Her face had that stricken look to it and he had to stop and think about what he had said. Oh. _Oh_.

She blinked at him, her mouth opening slightly.

"Nothin' specific," Cal explained. "It just slipped out." He couldn't pin a memory to the words but something in his brain had told him they were true and they had come out of his mouth as if they were a fact he knew through and through.

Gillian swallowed heavily and turned away from him slightly to keep walking. She was half way across the room, Cal close behind, when she finally said, "That's true though."

Cal sniggered and then Gillian gave a huff of a giggle that made Cal laugh again and suddenly they were at the door, holding hands and chuckling, the tension dispelled again. Cal wondered on what specific occasions he was talking about. He wondered if he could ask her. He wondered if she was thinking about something in particular now. He was glad to make her smile, and toss back her hair in that carefree way, but another part of him was jealous and annoyed. She had an advantage over him. And it wasn't fair. He wanted dirty memories too.

Gillian flipped on the lights in their room and crossed to the bed and Cal suddenly felt out of place. He hadn't thought this through. The intimate atmosphere of crying on her shoulder and sitting downstairs talking was suddenly stark under the overhead lights of their bedroom. _Their_. _Bedroom_. Gillian was digging her pyjamas out of the made bed and Cal stuck his hands in his pockets, an old habit when he wasn't sure what to do with himself, something his father had berated him for on many occasions when he was a little boy. "There are plenty of clean clothes for you to sleep in," Gillian told him, not looking at him, but starting to unbutton her trousers. Cal spun away to give her privacy, glad for a distraction. It felt like he should look away. It didn't feel right to stare. Even if she didn't seem particularly bothered that she was undressing with him in the room.

So he went to his dresser drawers and started with the largest at the top, assuming the three smaller ones at the very top contained socks underwear and... something else small. He was right, t-shirts were folded in the next drawer down and he picked one up off the top and un-folded it. It was sky blue. With a bright yellow sponge bob on the front. Seriously?

Behind him, Cal could hear the whisper of Gillian's clothes as she changed and he didn't dare turn around. Where was the part of him that would definitely have leered? Knocked out of his head along with his memories? He wondered for the first time about his personality. Had it changed? He felt different, sure, but was that simply because he had lost a bit of confidence, or was he under some sort of massive personality change? He must have been day dreaming for a little while because he came to as Gillian brushed past him to reach the bathroom. She left the door wide open as she brushed her teeth. Cal took that opportunity to change his shirt. But what about his lower half? Was he just going to slide into bed with her in his underwear? Granted he wore those boxer briefs now (he didn't remember buying them) and that afforded him a little more modesty than briefs would have... but still... He left his jeans on and then hovered around. His toothbrush was downstairs. Where should he chuck his dirty shirt? He was starting to wonder if this was a good idea.

Gillian breezed into the bedroom again. "Bathroom's free."

Cal mumbled his thanks and shuffled inside, closing the door behind him. He used the toilet and as he moved over to the sink to wash his hands found a new toothbrush on the counter. For him. Gillian really did think of everything, bless her. Cal brushed his teeth and washed his face and then checked he smelt all right. He did; clean t-shirt and deodorant. Good. God he was silly! It wasn't a date! '_For Christ's sake_,' he told himself off. '_Get back out there_.'

Gillian was sitting up in bed when he came back. She had glasses on and had a book propped up on her knees. "That's my side of the bed," Cal told her as he closed the bathroom door again.

"Nope," she responded without looking up.

"Yes."

"We swapped," she informed him, keeping her eyes studiously on the book while Cal undid his jeans and quickly slipped under the covers, tying to hide himself. "When I was pregnant you let me be closer to the bathroom." She looked up as Cal was about to point out the bathroom was on his side of the room now. "And then we moved."

"I see," he responded, shifting down to settle against the pillow, his elbow bent and his hand propping up his head. "You wear glasses?"

Gillian turned to look at him. "Only for the really small print."

Cal gave a slight smile. "They're cute. Very cute."

"Hmm," Gillian responded. She took them off and folded them up, closed her book, and put both on her bedside table. While reaching over she put the light out and settled with her head against her pillow. She sighed. "I'm so tired," she murmured into the darkness.

"Were you up with Lewis much in the night?"

"A few times."

Cal waited a moment. His stomach was nervy. "Gill?"

"Uh huh?"

"Do I get goodnight cuddles?"

There was a second of silence. "Sure," she answered as she started moving. She turned over and suddenly her face was close to Cal's. "Oh," she responded on a breath. "I didn't realise you were so close." Cal had shifted to the middle of the bed, his face right on the edge of his pillow and now Gillian's was opposite his. Cal could feel the murmuring caress of her words over his skin as she settled there. Their hands bumped and tangled as they shifted to embrace. Cal was too aware of their recent past, too aware of how nervous he felt, too aware of how he had no idea why he felt that way. Gillian shifted her head forward to press her lips against his cheek. "Good night," she whispered.  
>Cal wondered how she knew exactly where he was orientated. How had she not accidently kissed his nostril? He tightened his arm that was over her waist in a squeeze and her fingers returned the sentiment somewhere along the back of his shoulder. "Good night," Cal echoed. He wanted to kiss her back. But he was too afraid of launching a kiss at her nostrils, embarrassing himself and breaking the sweetness of the moment.<p>

**PJ**

Gillian woke warm and a little disorientated. She was wrapped up in someone's arms, her face pressed tightly against their hot neck, her body somewhere lost in theirs. Her first thought was 'who the hell!?' and then her second was 'no it's Cal' and her third was 'oh thank fuck!' She squirmed closer, if that was even possible, and brought a hand up to his shoulder, squeezing, bringing her leg between his, fitting against him in every perfect way. And it was only then that she realised this was a bit much. She was suddenly torn between what she wanted and what she thought was best for Cal. She was always doing what she thought was best for Cal. She was tired of that.

She was figuring out what he needed at the same time he was figuring out what he needed. Which meant things were a little complicated but after their chat the other night (where she had literally dumped everything at his feet) it seemed like they were standing on the same side of the line (even more so after last night). For real this time. Gillian could _feel_ it, not just talk herself into it. Everything was just a little bit more fluid and less contrived. She breathed a little easier around him. But was that how Cal was feeling? It had taken him too long, in her opinion, to relax around Lewis, to make it right with him, so how was he feeling about her? Their marriage? Their life?

Cal stirred as she slackened her grip slightly, irrational fears causing her to pull away. He moaned a little and shifted his head forward to bury his nose in her hair, searching her out, his hands tightening against her flesh. He rumbled something in his chest and Gillian pulled away slightly. "Huh?" she whispered.

"Good mornin'," Cal said, or repeated, he didn't indicate if he was responding to her question. His eyes were still peacefully closed, his face relaxed, his eyes didn't shift around beneath the lids.

"Morning," Gillian repeated, her stomach feeling giddy. She smiled. Couldn't help it. It was too good waking up with him there. She had missed him terribly. Sleeping alone was heart wrenching. Sleeping in his arms was coming home.

"This bed is very comfy," Cal muttered.

"It is," Gillian agreed. Her arm was dead beneath her and she didn't care.

"You smell good," Cal added, his lips barely parting to form the words.

Gillian twitched. Her whole body shuddered, the reaction out of her control. Cal's eyes came open and he shifted back surprised. His pale blue eyes fell on hers. She was all ready embarrassed. "You all right?" He queried lightly.

She nodded, turned away slightly onto her back to try and hide her face. She pulled the blanket over her head. Instead of Cal pulling it down again, he flipped it up over his head too and burrowed beneath it to find her. His eyes peered at her intently, his chin on her shoulder; he looked so cute. He looked like Lewis. "Did I say somethin'?" He still mumbled the words, his jaw working against the bone in her shoulder.

Gillian didn't quite know what to say to that.

"Somethin' I didn't say?" Cal asked next.

Gillian shook her head. She brought a hand up to caress his rough cheek. "No," she whispered. "It's me, not you."

"You miss me," Cal supplied.

Gillian nodded.

"I'm workin' on it," he told her.

"I know." Gillian shifted on to her side again, hugging him tightly. His arm was firm, his hand gripped her back. "I know you are."

"I'm gettin' there though, yeah?"

"Uh huh," she murmured over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry you know."

"It's not your fault," she told him again. "It's really not."

"Gill," Cal's hand moved, pulling her in the other direction, pushing her away so he could see her face. "In the hospital. When I said that I loved you. I meant that."

"I know," she whispered, looking into his eyes to see he was telling her the truth, but also telling him the same.

"But now."

And Gillian just about died.

"Now I know what that really means. I loved you back then but now, I really love you Gill."

Her mouth actually dropped open a little.

"I mean," and he frowned, trying to find the right words and so she waited, heart on edge, her stomach pounding. "I mean that I loved you back then, before we were togetha, but now I undastand what that means, in the context of now. It means Lewis, we made him, and we raised him to be this sweet little man. And it means all the day to day meals, and photos, and birthdays and Christmas's."

'_Yes_,' Gillian breathed, frozen in place, waiting, hoping, daring...

"I don't get all of it," Cal almost winced. "But I'm starting to see." He paused. "You're beautiful Gill. And brilliant but just so..." He stopped, blinked, perhaps checked back into the room and the words that were spilling from his mouth, or trying to gather himself again to finish. "I think my sub-conscious rememba's you even if my conscious doesn't. I love you. I know that I love you. I can feel it in my heart. My heart belongs to you, even if my head can't quite believe that it's true."

Fuck whatever else he was going to say. Gillian launched herself against his lips, tears soaking into their skin. "I love you Cal," she spluttered against his mouth and she didn't even care that she was making a fool of herself, or making a mess of his face, her tears and sorrow and joy blitzing together. "I love you."

"I know," he whispered back. "And I love you too." He held her tighter. "I want to move back home." The change was slow and subtle but after a while he was aware of Gillian stiffening in his arms, of slowly withdrawing until she was sitting up, facing him, staring at him, he could tell in the dimness of the room (those must be phenomenal curtains to keep out all of that sun). He leaned up on his hand to match her and, closer, he could sense more than anything, the shock on her face. "If that's all right," he added lamely, suddenly feeling as though he should get her permission.

"No."

Cal blinked hard. Had he misheard?

"No Cal. I'm sorry but no."

What?

"You can't just leave for a while and come back whenever you just decide it's good. I'm sorry, I am, but, you can't just keep changing your mind every time it suits you. You left by your choice and... you just left me... and I can't keep doing that to Lewis."

Uh oh.

"I'm not going to explain to him again why you're going."

Cal frowned. When had Gillian become so inarticulate? Around the same time he had? What was she even talking about?

Gillian sighed. "I can't put him through that again. You can't come home and decide it's too hard again and you're not ready and leave. If you want to come home you have to be sure."

"I am," Cal interjected.

"No," she told him firmly. "You wanted time and space... well take it. Take more time and space. Be sure. When you come home I want you to be sure. This isn't a game. You don't get to just try it out to see if it fits. You come home, you mean it. You really mean it Cal. Because I can't keep doing this."


	56. Chapter 56

"What did you say to that?"

Cal gave a shrug. "What could I say?"

Wu waited for him to drop the facetiousness and Cal gave a defeated sigh. Then a glimmer of a smile. "I was actually kind of proud of her," he admitted.

"Why's that?" Wu seemed surprised.

"For standin' up to me. That's one of the reasons I liked havin' her around in the beginnin'. Cos she stood up to me. No one else did. Well that's not true. Zoe stood up to me all the time but I knew how to bulldoze her and Gillian, well it took me much longa to figa her out. That was the challenge."

"You like to be challenged," Wu pointed out dryly.

Cal nodded. "And this... it felt like the old Gillian was back. The strong Gillian."

"You worry about her?"

"Of course I do," Cal shot back.

"Specifically how she's been coping with your accident?"

Cal was silent for a moment, studying that pot plant. "Of course," he repeated a bit more subdued. "Course I worry and I wonda. She said she was talkin' to someone." And he realised maybe he had been selfish. Too worried about himself. Too absorbed with trying to make himself better that he had neglected her. She was his wife. They were meant to be a partnership.

"This is a very trying time for both of you. Don't beat yourself up about it too much," Wu interjected gently. "You're doing very well Cal. I've seen plenty of patients with head injuries come through that door," he gestured to it. "Bitter, angry, despondent, deaf. But you're listening and you're willing to learn. When you're knocked back, you get on up again."

Funny, his mother used to say that to him too. '_You're a fighter Calvin. You're a Mason_.' He wasn't, he was a Lightman, but she liked to insist out of both her boys, he was the most like her side of the family.

"And you will keep on trying with Gillian until you both figure it out, because you love each other, and above everything else," here Wu paused for emphasis. Cal actually felt his spirits roused by the speech. "Above everything else, you've always had each other."

**PJ**

Gillian almost just assumed Cal would pick Lewis up from day care so when he asked to that morning she almost laughed at him. And then of course she remembered. It came rushing back. After the perfect hot little confessions under the bed covers she could almost forget that something was just slightly off centre in their lives. When she had got it back together again, after she had told him 'no', she had thrown back the blanket for fresh air over her entire body. Cal was quiet and it didn't seem to entirely be one of those comfortable 'we just did it' mornings. When Gillian wiped her tears away with her fingers and made to get out of bed he asked her where she was going.

"Work," was her response, because life went on and if she stopped to dwell now she would drown. She used the bathroom, washing the red out of her eyes, then went to wake Lewis. Cal stayed in bed, thoughtful so it seemed, his gaze not following her around the room. When she came back to change, Cal was gone. When she got downstairs, dressed and ready for the day, he had departed, leaving her a note. He had an appointment to keep and he hadn't been able to catch her because she was in the shower. So beautiful confessions gave way to a sharp reprimand and abandonment (stupid, she knew, but that's how it felt) and she organised her morning, once again, without him. Would this become their new normal? Because it wasn't so bad; it didn't seem so awful. On the surface. Especially because it felt like they were headed towards something good. Getting there... eventually right?

Lewis was in a good mood. He said his stomach didn't feel funny anymore (he also hadn't wet the bed). He didn't ask where Cal was (perhaps Cal had said goodbye to him?). Gillian took her son to day care, confident that it really had just been a twenty-four hour bug and he was fine. It felt a little bit harder to walk away that morning. She forgot to let him know that his father was going to pick him up later that afternoon. Sure, it felt like they were getting somewhere but Cal still wasn't living at home and he still didn't remember their entire relationship and it still smarted. And she still felt the need to test him a little, to tell him 'no' and see what he would do. By the time Gillian got to work the allusion had died and she felt more alone than ever. What she needed, what Lewis needed, was for Cal to be there, for him to be around, just present; she needed him to write new memories over the last three months. So why the hell did she tell him 'no'?

**PJ**

Cal cut the oranges into wedges for Lewis and nipped off the ends so he didn't have to dig his little fingers into the rind to try and start the peel. Lewis eagerly leaned over his bowl and Cal watched him, amused at the kid's enthusiasm. They were just oranges. Cal had a few segments himself. Lewis pushed the fruit to his mouth, sucking the juice from the flesh, leaving the bright orange peel between his lips. Cal did the same, looking over at Lewis to make sure the boy was watching. He gave a wiggle of his eye brows and Lewis giggled. He pushed another section of rind against his mouth to mimic his father.

"Grrr," Cal made claws out of his fingers.

"Ahhhh!" Lewis furrowed his forehead into a frown.

Cal pushed the fruit out of his mouth again. Lewis did the same and inspected it, bringing it back to his teeth to nip at the pulp still clinging on to the skin. Cal reached over the bench for a black marker in the cup by the phone. He drew triangles on the waxy side and popped it into his mouth again, hoping the ink had had time to dry before his lips inadvertently closed over it. Cal gave another loud growl and hooked his fingers, made a scowl out of his eyes.

Lewis looked up and laughed. "Dad!"

Cal pushed the rind out of his mouth again with a puff of air. It fell to the chopping board on the bench beneath him.

"I have one!" Lewis crowed.

"Give me one of yours," Cal gestured but Lewis was reluctant to hand it over. So he gave Lewis the marker. He instructed him to keep the ink on the skin side only, the pen was toxic, it couldn't go in Lewis's mouth. Lewis drew his own design and then showed Cal, who congratulated him. Cal drew another with monster styled teeth, then one with buck teeth, and finally vampire. Lewis laughed delighted and drew random designs on his. After a while Cal put the pen away, made a big show of play time being over and directed Lewis to finish his fruit while Cal cleaned up. And Lewis responded obediently. Cal was pleased.

Once the kitchen was squared away he asked Lewis what he wanted to do next. The boy shrugged at him and waited expectantly on his breakfast bar stool, shifted so it was beside the bench. Lewis leaned forward so far his elbows rested on the marble countertop by the sink. Cal floundered for a second. What was he going to do with the kid now? Gillian had rules about how much television Lewis watched a day. Well, no, _they_ had rules about how much television Lewis watched a day.

"Let's draw Mum a picture," Cal suggested.

"Ok," Lewis readily agreed. He launched himself from his perch at the bench, landing on his hands and knees. Cal leaned down to pick him up, setting him on his feet again. "Paints!" He declared.

"No, not paints," Cal responded, blanching at the thought of getting them all out and set up and then having to put newspaper down.

"Crayons?"

"Sure," Cal agreed. "Crayons." He was still going to have to put newspaper down. Lewis went to retrieve them and Cal got newspaper out of the recycling and spread it out over the table. Lewis went to get paper, running through the house enthusiastically, while Cal took a seat in the sun.

Lewis had two sheets when he returned. "One for you, one for me," he announced, slapping them down on the table. He climbed into his chair, his movements slightly clumsy with his excitement.

Seriously? For drawing?

Cal moved his sheet closer. "What shall I draw?" Cal brushed the extended pinky of his right hand over the upturned palm of his left: draw.

Lewis watched his hands, then considered what Cal had said while Cal hoped he had got the sign correct. "Let's draw Mum flowers," Lewis announced. "Cos they pitty."

"Yes," Cal agreed. "Very pretty. Like Mum." He took a pink crayon and drew large petals. Lewis watched him for a moment, then grabbed a red, and tried to mimic. They worked in silence for a moment. Cal asked for a green.

Lewis handed one over. "I like yours."

"Thanks," Cal told him. "I like yours." Lewis had a whole mass of colours together, in shapes like petals or leaves, grouped together like a bouquet.

Lewis looked down at his page but didn't seem convinced. He looked over at Cal's again. He pointed to the stems. "I like this."

"Thanks," Cal told him again. "I'm gonna put a ribbon around them. So they're extra pretty."

"Oooh," Lewis breathed. "Me too!" He reached for a black.

They worked away for another ten minutes and then Lewis finally announced that he was done. Cal was not the world's greatest artist and his flowers looked rather cartoonish but Lewis was very impressed and oohed and ahhed over them. So Cal oohed and ahhed over Lewis's. "Shall we write on them?" Cal asked him, breaking off the over indulgence. Lewis looked like he wasn't quite sure what Cal meant so Cal reached for a deep blue, because that was one of Gillian's favourites. She had a lot of favourite colours, pink at the top of the list, blue, green, red, orange... Wholly fuck he remembered that? How cool!

Cal wrote 'To Gillian. Love From Cal X' on his. When he looked over to supervise what Lewis wanted to write on his he found the boy had written his own name, using his left hand, in large uneven and shaky letters, but letters all the same. His name. Firstly, he could write!? And secondly, he could spell his name!? "That's very good Lewis," Cal told him his voice rising, impressed. He moved his open right hand from his mouth to his open left hand down by the table. "Who taught you to write your name?"

"You," Lewis responded simply.

'_Oops_,' Cal thought. "How about Mum's name?"

"Um?" Lewis looked thoughtful and looked off to the corner of the room. "There's M and then U and then M again." He made the finger signs for each letter.

"How about on here," Cal tapped the page, where Lewis had already scrawled his name.

"You do it," Lewis told him, trying to give Cal his black crayon.

"You do it," Cal echoed. He wrote the letters on a space of the newspaper so Lewis could see. "It's like an upside down 'W'.

"You show me," Lewis insisted.

"Like this," Cal made an 'M' on another gap on the paper. Lewis craned right over to see. "Now you do one there," Cal pointed again.

Lewis drew an unsteady line down, then one on an angle, longer than the first, another on the opposite angle, that cross sectioned the first half way down, and lastly another unsteady line down. "Very good," Cal told him enthusiastically. He showed him how to make a 'U', slowly, patiently, moving his hand so Lewis could see.

Lewis turned to his page and made a mess of a recreation. His 'U' ran away to the edge of the page. He gave a frown of consternation as he tried to get his crayon under control again. Finally he deemed himself finished. He looked up at Cal expectantly. Cal redirected him to the 'M' again and Lewis bent over his page like he was performing brain surgery. Cal got up, kissing Lewis's head as he went by. Time to start dinner.

Cal pulled salad ingredients from the fridge and a tray of chicken breast. He went to the pantry to select something interesting with which to coat the meat with. "Dad! I finished!" He heard the thud of Lewis hitting the floor and emerged in time with Lewis's crashing in to him. "Oi!" Cal berated him lightly. "You gotta be gentle with me. I'm an old man now."

Lewis looked up at him, blue eyes regarded him as if he were speaking another language. After a second he brought his picture up to wave in front of his father. "I finished."

"Let's take a look," Cal took the paper from him. The second 'M' was much larger than the first, but he had formed it correctly. "Great work!" He enthused. "Now, let's put it somewhere safe for when Mum gets home ok?" Lewis nodded. Cal moved to the breakfast bar and put the picture down on the surface. He instructed Lewis to get his too, which he did, running until Cal told him to stop and placed them side by side, taking a moment to study them both. Cal watched him, seeing the way his mind worked behind his eyes. He gathered together more ingredients to make their evening meal and interrupted Lewis's art appreciation to ask him to pack away the crayons. Lewis slowly moved back to the table, but he did oblige, and Cal thanked him warmly.

Cal focussed on cutting the chicken into strips, keeping an eye on Lewis as he put the crayons back in their plastic container and took them back to where he had gotten them from. Somewhere in another room. Cal wondered where. Where did Lewis keep his things stashed? And then he was back, standing on his chair, scooping up the paper into his arms in a noisy bundle. "Dad where should I put this?" He asked, the mass of paper hugged against his chest.

"Why don't you fold it up and put it back in the recyclin' bin?"

Lewis looked at him blankly. "This bin?"

"No, the bin in the garage," Cal spoke up.

"Ok," Lewis agreed. He jumped from the chair, looked like he was about to take a nose dive further into the carpet and then righted himself. He walked off, looking as though he were struggling under the weight of the paper, or perhaps just the sheer volume of it.

Cal put the chicken into a bowl and shook over paprika, Cajun spice, chilli powder (not too much, Lewis still had to eat this after all) and tarragon. He added oil, salt and pepper and mixed it all up together. And then Lewis was back. "What you doing?" He asked, standing by Cal's leg, close, so they were touching.

"I'm makin' dinna."

"Can I help?"

Cal considered it. What could he give the boy to do that wouldn't require close supervision or a knife? Cal lifted him to sit on the bench, on the other side of the sink. "You have to wash your hands first," he told him. He turned on the tap and Lewis dutifully held his hands out under the water. Cal gave him a squirt of the same soap he had used and Lewis played with the water and the bubbles he created for a while. Cal set the chicken aside and worked on the salad. He sliced tomatoes and cucumbers and added feta, olives, pine nuts, sundried tomatoes and shredded parmesan. He went through the fridge again to see if there was anything else compatible. He found five different kinds of dressing in the fridge door and had no idea which one Gillian would prefer. He figured mayonnaise would be too heavy. But after that he drew a blank. So he grabbed them all. They could dress the salad at the table.

"Dad!"

"Yeah buddy?" Cal turned back to him. "Finished?" Lewis nodded and wiped his hands on the front of his t-shirt. "Use a towel you silly bugga." He pulled a square of paper towel from the roll and handed it to him. Lewis looked like he had no idea what to do with it and Cal supposed he had probably already dried his hands and didn't need it. But Lewis still scrunched it up between his fingers.

"Bin!"

Cal took it from him and threw it into the rubbish under the sink.

"Dad?"

"Yes Lewis?"

"Why did you go away?"


	57. Chapter 57

Cal stilled. He looked over to meet Lewis's innocent eyes. "When I was in the hospital?"

Lewis nodded. "And then you came back and then you went way again."

"Yeah," Cal almost sighed. He approached where Lewis was sitting and placed his hands on the boy's knees to stop him from kicking the cupboard under his heels. "You know when you were sick last week?" Lewis nodded. "And you didn't feel so good and so you didn't do lots of normal things?" Lewis nodded again. "Your jobs," Cal went on. "Like the dishes and settin' the table." Lewis nodded dutifully. "And you didn't go to day care to see your friends or spend time with them because you were very tired and you needed to rest?"

"Are you very tired Daddy?"

"Yes," Cal confirmed. "I've been very tired so I need to rest to get betta."

"At a special place?"

"Yes," Cal agreed reluctantly. Look right in his eyes, lie to his son? It felt really bad. But what else was he meant to tell him? The truth? The complexity of a brain injury and Cal's cowardice?

"For adults."

Cal almost did a double take. It sounded like he had said 'adolf's'. "Yes for adults." Sort of. He wished Gillian was home all of a sudden. This was not really something he wanted to deal with on his own. He wanted a second opinion. He needed his warm, friendly, soft partner to deal with the icky complicated feelings part of the conversation. Not to mention the fact he was blatantly ignoring the second part of Lewis's question. He had come home, and gone away again, and what was his excuse? He didn't have one.

"See what happened," Cal went on, his son staring up at him, waiting, accepting everything he was told. Cal couldn't lie to him. He couldn't do it. He took Lewis's hand. "Is that I fell off somethin' very tall and banged my head."

"That's ouch," Lewis informed him.

"Very," Cal agreed. He raised his son's hand to his head, tilting it to the side slightly so Lewis's reach was long enough. He pressed the little fingers of the boy's hand against his scar and saw how Lewis's eyes widened slightly.

"Feels funny," Lewis gasped.

"Yeah," Cal agreed. He let Lewis's hand go and the boy felt around his hair for a while before taking his hand back. "It took ages to get betta. Not just a day like when you were sick, but lots of days."

"Ages," Lewis agreed.

Cal nodded. "Ages. That's why I was gone."

Lewis nodded. Cal waited. Was there anything else? Should he even attempt to explain why he had come home and then gone away again? Or let Lewis believe that he was somewhere special for adults getting better. And what about the memory loss? Should he tell him about that too? Or was he just going to completely traumatise the poor boy? He was only four after all.

"Help me wash the lettuce?" Cal changed the subject.

"Does it wash its hands?"

"Yes," Cal chuckled. "We need to give it a bath." So he set Lewis up with the ice-berg lettuce and the sink and showed him how wash all the bugs off and any dirt. Cal also had mesculin mix and he fried off the chicken in a hot pan while Lewis played once again with the water. Cal just hoped he wasn't going to contaminate their dinner too much. Once the chicken was cooked Cal brought it over to drain, placing the pieces on top of two paper towels.

"What's that for?" Lewis asked him

"That's for our salad."

"Oh."

"Do you like chicken?"

Lewis nodded. "That one looks nice."

"I hope it is," Cal answered him.

"I bet that tastes yummy."

Cal gave a slight chuckle. Then he looked up at Lewis sincerely. "Would you like to try some?"

"Oh yes please!" Lewis enthused.

Cal found a small piece that hopefully would be cool enough for Lewis to try. "Seein' as you're so determined and all," he muttered under his breath.

"Uh huh, determinated," Lewis agreed. He reached out his hand for the food his father offered him. He popped it into his mouth before Cal could warn him and gave a little wince, then started chewing anyway.

"How is it?" Cal asked him.

Lewis nodded vigorously.

"Good?"

Lewis nodded again. Cal watched his son watching him, feeling that warmth spread through his chest. His boy. Who would have thought? Clearly not even he had. He'd told Gillian 'no' after all. All those years ago.

"What is going on here?"

Speak of the devil. Cal turned his head to find Gillian in the doorway. She approached over the kitchen floor to dump her bag on the end of the breakfast bar, her own little corner.

"Hi Mum!" Lewis waved.

"Hi Lewis," she smiled back. She loosened her complicated grip on her keys and purse, the mail in her other hand, mashed up against a plastic bag.

Cal approached to take the groceries out of her grip. "Did you get it?" He asked.

"How was your day?" Gillian asked Lewis, ignoring Cal. "And why is Dad letting you sit on the bench?" She reached Lewis and put her arms around him, a hug but also displacing him from his perch. She moved him over to one of the tall stools just around the corner of the breakfast bar and put him down on it.

"Mum look!" Lewis pointed to their art. He reached over to grab his. Cal moved to his work station to slice the fresh bread into large pieces. "We made you pitty things."

"Wow," Gillian automatically enthused. Her hands came up to take the sheet of paper from Lewis. "That's beautiful Lewis," she waved her hand in front of her face slowly to encompass it, her palm facing her. She leaned in to give him a kiss and a one armed hug.

Lewis pushed her away to reach over for the second sheet. "Dad's," he announced. "Look at Dad's." He shoved the paper at her. Gillian held it up so she could see and Lewis pointed out the details, the ribbon, the petals on that purple flower there, and this one, that went from yellow in the middle to orange. "Verr pitty," Lewis mused to himself.

"Very," Gillian agreed. "Thank you Cal," she added politely.

He was standing two feet away and yet she kept her distance. He gave her a grin in response and Gillian finally crossed to him. "Beautiful," she told him again, in a softer voice this time, signing the word again, stepping closer and closer until she was within his arms, then against his chest. She pressed her lips against his, firmly, breathing him in deeply. Cal felt a flood of warmth surge through him. His hand came up to her arm and she pulled it through so her fingers could link through his. Her hand squeezed his and he squeezed right on back, twice. He felt Gillian's lips hesitate in her surprise but then she was sure of herself again, her mouth parting slightly to make the kiss a little more intimate and Cal's stomach set on edge, quivering.

"Dad!" Lewis's voice interrupted them.

"What?" Cal turned to him. Gillian escaped with a slight laugh, extricating his fingers. "Why am I gettin' told off?" He let his hands brush down her back as she walked away, not daring to cop a feel of her backside. When it came down that kind of thing he got nervous. She might be in the six years of marriage frame of mind but he kept thinking about 'been dating for a few months'. The 'don't push your bloody luck' phase.

"Mum don't leave!" Lewis crooned from his seat.

"Lewis sit down!" Gillian and Cal both cried as they turned to see him standing on the stool. Lewis immediately dropped into a crouch, holding on to the edge of the breakfast bar as his bum hit the seat, startled.

"I'm just going to get changed," Gillian told him. "I'll be right back."

"Promise?" Cal shot to her as she reached the doorway. She turned back, giving him a loaded expression over her shoulder before disappearing up the stairs. Cal gave a slight sigh, feeling his heart rate return to normal. Lewis was watching him, waiting for the next move. Cal looked over at him, "Shall we set the table?"

**PJ**

"Can you answa somethin' for me?"

"Depends what it is," Wu responded neutrally.

"Lewis. What's goin' on with him? I mean, all this stuff that's goin' on, it's not gonna completely screw with him foreva is it?" He would have asked Gillian this but it seemed wildly inappropriate given Lewis was her son.

Wu regarded Cal for a moment, before shifting in his seat and Cal got the distinct impression he was being judged. It could be paranoia of course but he vowed to himself to never come back. This would be the last time he was going to resort to seeing a shrink. Yes, it had helped in the past and yes it was probably helping now (although he figured Gillian would be a better judge of such things) but he still felt it degrading. He still found it frustrating. He didn't like being told what to do. From what he had found out (more snooping on his part) he had only been to see Wu a handful of times. Short and sweet. Sounded perfect to Cal. Except this time, he needed more. Clearly. He had been here almost every day the first week, this week had been cut back to three sessions... but still...

"It would be hard for me to give any opinion with certainty without assessing your son myself."

Cal waved his hand in dismissal. "Just what do you think?"

"I think Lewis sounds very well balanced considering. Gillian has taken the time to explain things to him and keep him involved; she could have glossed over details or kept him removed and in the dark. I think Lewis responds to that kind of respect."

Cal had to agree with that one.

"Like most adults and older children, I doubt Lewis will remember much of the incident in its entirety, because of his age. Probably just broad feelings about you being away, possibly that you were hurt, and it being confusing when you came back. Most of what he will recall of details will be reinforced by verbal accounts by those adults around him."

'_So if we shut up about it as he grows up he could forget most of it.'_

"Aside from the slight regression you were telling me about earlier, Lewis seems to be coping very well with the situation."

'_Completely Gillian's doin'.'_

"But I'm very pleased to see you making so much effort to get to know him again."

"He makes it easy," Cal admitted. "He's very acceptin'. And lovin'. I got lucky. Very lucky."

Wu nodded. "What about Gillian?"

"She's also very forgivin'," Cal responded automatically. And loving. And Cal was lucky, very lucky to have her. So why was it so hard now? "Is it me? I mean, with Gillian, the fact that we're still distant. Is it me?"

Wu didn't respond. Cal supposed he thought it was rhetorical but he actually wanted an answer from the doctor. When he thought about Lewis he felt a warmth spread through him, a relaxed sense of 'all is right with the world' and when he thought about Gillian it almost felt like addictive dread. He wanted to be with her. He really did. But there was something holding them back. There was still something between them. Something he couldn't identify with certainty. He just knew it was there. And that it was not helping the wedge between them heal. The splinter was starting to aggravate.


	58. Chapter 58

"Good night Lewis," Cal murmured against his son's hair, kissing him and telling him he loved him. Lewis bade him goodnight and Cal headed across the room, pulling the door slightly closed, but leaving it enough so the light spilled through the crack and kept all the bad shadows at bay. He headed down the hall, found Gillian propped up on her bed (their bed). He almost tapped on the door before going in; his slight hesitation was announcement of his presence. Gillian looked up from her book. She gave him a smile. "He's in bed," Cal told her heading across the room slowly.

"That's good," her smile remained.

Cal reached the bed and sat on the edge of the mattress. On his side of the furniture. This would be about the time he would go back to the motel. But then, the night before they'd had sleep over's again and he was too afraid to ask for that some more. It had to come from Gillian. He saw that now. It wasn't just about him being comfortable with her, but her being comfortable around him too.

Gillian raised a hand and cocked a finger at him, curling it in a 'come here' gesture, the smile on her face turning into a slight grin. Cal picked himself up and crawled across the bed. He stopped a foot away. Gillian curled her finger again. "Come here," she almost whispered. Cal shifted forward again. Gillian curled her other hand around his ear, tugging him down those last few inches so she could press her lips against his. Cal kissed her back cautiously, his arms focussed on holding himself up right now despite wanting to thread his fingers through her hair.

"You're so cute with Lewis," Gillian whispered.

"I'm," Cal started, had no idea what he was going to say. Gillian traced her tongue against his top lip and stopped his words short.

"You know it's a turn on for me right?"

"Oh," Cal murmured. His arms protested and he was forced to roll away. Gillian followed him, the thud of her book hitting the floor loud in the quiet of the room. She leaned over his chest, pressing her mouth against his again, her lips warm and wet and unforgiving. Cal brought his hands up to her waist, holding her in place. Gillian's fingers played with his shirt, smoothing and petting his chest.

Cal didn't know that, about Gillian, and Lewis, no wait, that was wrong. It was Cal with a kid? Their kid. It was him being a good dad, that was what turned her on. Cal supposed he would feel the same; Gillian looked good with a kid on her hip. It made stupid thoughts roll through his mind, like having another one, trying to make another baby. Cal broke away to gasp for air. Gillian shifted to press her lips against his throat. Cal's hands tightened on her flesh, pulling her tighter against him. "Don't," Cal started.

"Hmm?" Gillian hummed against his throat.

"Don't tease me," Cal breathed to the room.

Gillian pulled back slightly and Cal almost regretted letting the words fall out of his mouth, until he saw her pleased little smile. "I'm trying not to."

Cal's lips twitched in his amusement.

"But you know," she added, looking him in the eye. "I think about you a lot too."

Cal grinned. He smoothed his hands up her back, feeling over the clasp of her bra beneath her shirt. He felt electricity sparkle under his skin, all along his arms, fingers, chest, shoulders, thighs, tingling in his toes.  
>"Anyway," Gillian went on. "It's no good starting something now."<p>

Cal frowned slightly.

"As soon as we fool around Lewis will be in here wondering what we're up to."

Cal groaned. "That kid has terrible timin'."

Gillian chuckled a little and then got still. Realisation struck. "How do you know?"

Cal took a second to think. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Just slipped out huh?"

"I guess," he almost winced.

"It seems you manage to recall details as soon as you look the other way."

"It _does_ seem like that," Cal admitted. It almost sounded like an accusation but Gillian's tone was light, bemused, sounding theory, not placing blame. "Kind of confusin' rememberin' that way."

Gillian quirked an eyebrow at him.

"At least if I had some sort of massive cohesive flashback vision I'd know it was a memory comin' back to haunt me. When they sneak in like that I'm not even sure of what I said until you point it out."

"Hmm well you'll just have to make sure you're around me at all times."

Cal laughed lightly, pleased, his smile beaming. "Deal."

Gillian's smile, while genuine, was small.

"So what kind of time frame are we lookin' at here?" He tried to put a more decent grin on her features.

"Hmm?" Gillian asked him.

"Lewis goin' to sleep," Cal expanded.

Gillian gave a slight laugh this time and shifted away from him, forcing her way through his hands. "Don't get your hopes up," she told him as she leaned over the edge of the bed to retrieve her book.

Get his hopes up. At this point Cal was grateful to get anything up. Not that fooling around and kissing and feeling wasn't good, it was fantastic, it really was, but he was just a bit hit and miss with his performance at the moment and what he really wanted was just to be able to make love to his wife. Finally. Because he had been home for a month now (well not quite home, but at least out of the hospital) and the last week had been full of light flirting, despite her firm 'no', and the truth was, he needed it to piece things back together. Sex was part of a how a relationship worked. And he felt like he hadn't pressured her. They cuddled on the couch, in bed, kissed, hugged and now he wanted more. He had always wanted more, but this was about knowing, not necessarily getting his leg over. And to be honest, if Gillian rejected him now, he was going to take it personally.

"Gill," Cal turned over on to his side so he was facing her. Her underwear rode up slightly as she leaned over the mattress and he was enthralled for a second.

"Yeah?" She turned back, resettling, frowning as she tried to find her place in the book. No glasses tonight, the font was apparently big enough. Cal was surprised he was a little disappointed.

"I've been seein' someone."

The change was delayed, like it had taken a second to sink in. And then her eyes flew to his, shock on her face. Cal could just about see her heart pounding out of her chest and he realised his mistake. "No wait, that came out wrong," he immediately tried to back track but Gillian didn't look appeased in the slightest. "A shrink," he quickly found the right word. "A therapist. Someone to talk to. I've been seein' Docta Wu. Rememba? I saw him years ago."

Gillian looked aggrieved and she took a few seconds to calm down enough to form words. "I," she started and then, as she sat a little higher, "You never told me a name."

"Oh right," Cal recalled. "Docta Wu. Got his doctorate from George." Which is where Gillian had gone, as if that would endear her to the man who was straightening Cal's head out one painful session after the other. And then it occurred to him that maybe she knew Wu. They could be around the same age.

"Doesn't ring a bell," Gillian murmured in response and Cal startled again. Oh that's right, she could read his mind. She shifted and turned over so she was on her side facing him, mirror image. "Does it help?"

"You tell me."

"Uh uh, you tell me," she retorted.

Cal gave a bemused grin despite nearly giving her a heart attack, and himself one by proxy. "I don't really know. I think so. I think it just helps to talk to someone a bit." He studied her face. Little reaction. She seemed... pleased? Or offended? "Not that I'm sayin' I can't talk to you."

"Sure," she agreed. But they both knew that wasn't entirely true. She was his wife, his best friend, he should be able to talk to her. And then he realised that was why they weren't sleeping together, it wasn't that she didn't want him, because she had made it very clear in so many ways that she really did. It screamed at Cal at times how much. It was about a deeper connection, trust, an easiness Cal knew about in logic, because it was there in the back of his mind, but which they were yet to create. Or recreate.

And it felt like he should go first. So this confession was a very good subconscious start. But there was more he could open up to her about and he remembered working that out months ago, when he had woken up. He had opened up to her and she had felt safe. That was the key and he could have laughed and simultaneously kicked himself for not putting that together before now. He wanted back in, he wanted to live there with her, and be able to make love to her; he had to prove it. That's what she'd said. Prove it.

"A few times a week actually," Cal went on. "We talk about Lewis. Quite a lot." Gillian nodded. "I wanna make sure I haven't completely screwed the kid up."

A ghost of a smile danced over Gillian's lips. Her hand came out to press against the back of his and Cal swiftly laced his fingers through hers, so their palms were pressed together, and he could feel the warm lump of her wedding band digging into his digits. "You're making up for it now," Gillian told him softly.

"I'm workin' on it."

"You're doing great," Gillian insisted.

Cal studied her face. She didn't seem to be feeding him a line. He knew what that looked like and this wasn't it. This was genuine. And her features seemed softer now too. Lewis was a very good topic of conversation. Safe. He should definitely talk to her about their son more.

Gillian's lips slowly spread into a smile. "You're staring," she told him gently.

"Sorry," Cal immediately responded. Wait a minute, this felt like a familiar game. He leaned over and gave her a soft kiss. "Can't help it," he whispered against her mouth before pressing another kiss to her lips. When he pulled back she was glowing. "I should go," he told her gently. Her smile waivered just a little. "Cos it's bed time," he added in a whisper, leaning in for another kiss. "And I've an early start in the mornin'."

Gillian gave him a slow, lazy kind of smile, like she knew a secret he didn't and he stared her down for a moment more, drinking in that expression. It seemed familiar. So very familiar and it tugged at his brain hard, like he was reeling in a freaking shark. "See you tomorrow?" She asked him in a near whisper.

Cal nodded. One more kiss; why not? And then he was scooting across the mattress again and heading for the bedroom door. This felt like the right thing to do. To go. To show her he wasn't just there to worm his way into her bed. He could wait. Mostly, he was forced to wait. But even if he could have done something he would have made himself go anyway. To show her. Time and space. He could do what she asked of him. Cal headed downstairs, putting out the lights still on in the kitchen and then went to the front door. Funny how they had their own little routine now. A new one. Or an old one? Cal wasn't sure but as he turned to lock the door behind him it struck him cold. That expression on her face. He knew that expression. He did. It was right there. It was love. That was adoration. That was her own special way of showing him. She loved him.

Thud, said Cal's heart.


	59. Chapter 59

"Follow the light with your eyes only," Rockwell instructed. He raised a little pen light and shone it in Cal's eyes. He hummed to himself while Cal focussed on obliging the neurologist. He wanted, no needed, to hear that he was making progress with his recovery. He needed some good news of some sort. "How are you feeling?" Rockwell asked absently as he made notes on Cal's chart.

"Fine I guess," Cal responded.

"Any dizziness?"

Cal shook his head.

"Headaches?"

Cal shook his head again.

"Adam said you've been working hard in PT."

Cal nodded like a good boy; a dutiful Lewis.

"And Holly's pleased with your progress."

Cal nodded again, agreeing. He was making progress. Sometimes it felt like nothing was happening and then other days, like everything was coming together.

"Probably look at cutting back," Rockwell went on. He looked up. "They physical side of things anyway."

Cal nodded.

"How are things at home?"

"Gettin' there," Cal responded.

"Still seeing a therapist?"

"Yes."

"Not very talkative today," Rockwell finally lowered the chart to his waist and ignored it.

"When am I eva talkative?" Cal shot back.

"Good point," the doctor jabbed his pen at Cal to drive it home. He went back to the chart. "I'll want to see you again next week."

"Just next week?" Cal queried.

"I think so. I'm really happy with your progress. And no seizures since the surgery, which is just great."

"Wait what? Seizures?"

Rockwell looked up. He didn't seem surprised and clearly was unapologetic about dropping a bomb on Cal he obviously didn't even think was a big deal. "They're common in coma patients, particularly those with traumatic brain injuries."

"I had seizures when I was in the coma?"

"Yes several. Gillian approved surgery."

"She did, did she?"

"It was very successful," Rockwell responded positively. "I think we can look at cutting back some of the medications."

Cal nodded. It had been explained to him, several times, what he was taking and the reasoning, but it would just not stick in his mind. Too many syllables. He was never very good at that side of things. Oh that reminded him. "Lexapro," he started. Rockwell looked up sharply. "What would you prescribe that for?"

"It's primarily used as an anti-depressant."

"Mild?"

"Depends on the dosage."

Cal was thoughtful for a moment.

"Why are you asking me?" The neurologist queried.

"Just curious," Cal gave a shrug.

"Is your therapist talking to you about anti-depressants?"

"No not at all. I saw the name, was curious, thought I'd ask the first medical professional I came across," Cal lied. And he must have lied well because Rockwell barely gave him a second glance as he dismissed the conversation.

"Let's drop the dosage by a third ok? See how we go." He named oxy –something-or-other and bi-something-something and Cal had already forgotten what they were talking about.

"I have a question. Why am I even takin' it if I had surgery to prevent the seizures?" Which was the anti-seizure med? He was going to have to google.

"It's a preventative measure."

"Seems funny to me."

"We can talk about it next time," the doctor told him.

"All right," Cal agreed. Because he was going to research the shit out of the drug and see what it was about. And maybe the others ones as well. Why was he taking anything anyway? It wasn't like he had cancer.

Bad choice of words.

"One more thing," Cal added warily. Last night flashed through his mind. Did she notice? Is that why he still felt the need to run? How much of him going home at the end of the evening about him trying to do the right thing and wanting to run?

"Go ahead," Rockwell responded absently, finishing up his notes again.

"I've uh... been havin'... problems with..."

The neurologist looked up at Cal where he was sitting on an exam table. He waited for Cal to continue. Cal gestured to his groin. "Excitement," he cleared his throat. He shouldn't be embarrassed about this. He was pretty sure Rockwell had seen everything. There was a nurse on this floor who smiled at him in a private kind of way that actually made Cal feel a little uncomfortable. He didn't recall her name and was too embarrassed to ask. "Gettin' excited," Cal repeated more firmly. And staying that way. And when he was, not blowing it too quickly.

"Oh," Rockwell suddenly caught his meaning. "Well it would be understandable you would have performance issues after a traumatic event. I can prescribe you something if you'd like."

Cal waved his hand in dismissal. It wasn't like he was in need at the moment. Unless that was why Gillian hadn't attempted... why she didn't push... Was she worried about it like he was? She flirted, she made passes, she encouraged kissing. But when it actually came down to actually having actual sex...

"You could try talking to your psychologist about it," Rockwell spoke to his chart. Cal noted the neurologist's ears were red. He wished he hadn't brought it up.

**PJ**

From there Cal went straight to see Doctor Wu. From one doctor to the next. His life had become a revolving door or faces and appointments all designed to make him better and it felt like the best medicine of all, the thing that made him feel more normal than anything else was his family. He told Wu that and the doctor gave him an impressed expression. "That's really great to hear, that you're embracing your family. How are they reacting to you?"

"Good," Cal answered and then stopped to think. "Things with Lewis are good. Really good. He's a fantastic kid and really very lovin' and lucky for me, forgivin'."

Wu nodded as Cal talked and he listened. Every so often he jotted something down. "And Gillian?" He prompted.

"Well," Cal stopped to think again. "Good," he finished slowly. "I mean, we're gettin' there but..." he stopped abruptly.

"But?" Wu prompted again.

"There is one thing..." He sighed, oh for fuck's sake, may as well just get it out there. "We're not havin' sex."

"At all?"

"I just said that."  
>"I meant," Wu continued firmly, not dissuaded by Cal's sharp tone. "That you're not engaging in any sexual activity? Of any kind?"<p>

"No. Nothin'. Kissin' but no foolin' around."

"And you want to?"

"Yes," Cal said as if it were obvious. "I'd like to make love to my wife. I want to know her in that way and I want to show her how I love her."

"I'm glad you said that."

Cal looked up at him surprised.

"As opposed to saying you simply wanted to have sex."

"That too," Cal said mournfully.

"Why don't you talk to her about it?"

"I don't want to pressure her. Afta the 'movin' back in' convasation we had."

Wu nodded. He knew about it. Cal had told him. Cal had told him a lot more than he ever thought he would. "That was over a week ago," Wu pointed out. "Things might have changed since then."

"Gillian would talk to me about it," Cal replied.

"Would she? You have that kind of relationship?"

"Of course," Cal responded indignantly, but now that he thought about it, did they? She wasn't entirely forthcoming. He had been. He had been trying to be and Gillian. Well, her actions spoke louder than words at the moment, but perhaps Cal needed to hear the words in this instance. "It's..." Cal tried again to explain properly and found the words awkward. "When I was in the hospital..." And he proceeded to lay it all out. Gillian jumping him, how excited he was about it, thrilled really, a little too thrilled, way too excited. And since then, barely a twitch.

"That could be a result from your brain injury," Wu mused.

Like it was something Cal had gone out and bought, something he willingly acquired; Cal wanted to disown the brain injury. It wasn't him and it wasn't his. It had happened to someone else.

"Of course it could be psychosomatic," Wu went on.

"Well which is it?" Cal pressed. "And how do I get rid of it?"

**PJ**

Two doctors down, one more to go; but that would have to wait for tomorrow. As Cal exited the building Wu worked from his phone started to ring. "Hi Em," Cal greeted her.

"Hey, so are we on for dinner?"

"Oh I forgot all about it."

"That's ok."

"Text Gillian," Cal immediately suggested. "Then at least she'll actually know about it before you show up."

Emily gave a light chuckle. "I will make sure to do that."

"Great," Cal enthused, heading around the corner for a taxi. He should talk to Rockwell about driving again. That would definitely be a constructive milestone. Cal sensed Emily was about to hang up on him and stopped her.

"Yeah?" She queried.

"Zoe, your mum," he paused slightly. He should be used to asking random blatant questions by now. But nope. And certainly not when it came to his ex. "Where is she? I just mean, I haven't seen her, I thought she might stop by."

"Oh, yeah, well, she wanted to, of course, but she lives in New York now so..."

"It's not like she can just swing by anymore," Cal finished. "Got it."

"I did tell you she sent her love. Up at the hospital."

"Right, sorry." He had clearly forgotten all about that.

"She got head hunted last year."

Cal nodded along, spotted a cab and raised his arm. "Tell her I said hi, next time you talk to her."

"I will," Emily sounded pleased. "See you later?"

"You sure will."

**PJ**

"Cos I'm rocketmaaaaan!"

Gillian turned her head towards her son. She gave him a nudge. "What are you singing?"

Lewis looked up at her from his crouch on the couch. "Rocket maaaaaaaaaaaaan!" He turned to climb into her lap. "Daddy's a rocketmaaaaan," he sung in her face.

Gillian fended him off. "Oi you," she laughed.

"Burning in the sky and rain on them!"

Gillian laughed again. "What? Those aren't even the words." Lewis giggled so Gillian implemented a short round of tickle torture. "You and Dad have been listening to music huh?" She heard the sound of the door and her stomach leapt into her heart; Cal. "Who's that?" Gillian withdrew her hands from a panting four year old.

Lewis looked startle for a second. He hadn't heard his father call out or the door slam shut. He struggled to sit up, his hands gripping the back of the couch and a cushion to try and lever himself up. When Cal reached the doorway Lewis's face suddenly lit up. "Dad! Oh Dad!" He kicked at Gillian as he got to his feet and threw himself over the back of the seat, landing heavily on the floor.

"Careful Lewis," Cal spoke.

Gillian turned her head to see him, looking concerned, approaching where there son was on the floor. Or at least she assumed so, from where she was sitting she couldn't see the boy. Cal picked Lewis up, who wrapped his arms around Cal's hips and begged to be picked up. "Hi Gill," Cal greeted her.

"Hi Cal," she gave him a smile. "How'd it go?"

"Fine good, everythin's fine."

"That's good," she gave a pleased nod.

"Except," Cal's voice strained with the effort of lifting Lewis, who immediately wrapped his legs around his father's waist. "Turns out I was having seizures while in the coma." He turned his gaze from their son to her.

"Oh," Gillian had the decency to feel badly. "I should have told you about that."

"Yeah you should have," Cal came around the couch, Lewis still clutching at his chest. He dropped to the couch. "Slip your mind?"

"It did," Gillian admitted. "It was really early on and then as soon as you had surgery they stopped."

Cal looked over at her. Lewis turned his head against Cal's chest to do the same. "What did you get up to today?"

"Nothing much," Gillian went with the subject change. "Lewis and I were reading until a certain favourite person showed up."

"Oh yeah? Who's that then?" Cal queried flippantly. Gillian smiled slightly. Cal turned back to Lewis. "Shall we finish readin'?" Lewis nodded his head against Cal's shirt. "Well you'll have to sit up properly to do so." Lewis shifted around to face forward. "Oh god, without kneein' me in the balls!" Cal groaned, trying to protect himself and move Lewis at the same time. Gillian giggled a little. "Where's the book?" Cal asked Lewis. Lewis pointed to the seat next to them. "Shall I get it then?" Cal asked him. Lewis nodded. Gillian gave a slight sigh and got up.

Gillian checked her phone on the breakfast bar. There was a message from Emily confirming dinner that night. "Em's coming for dinner," she called over her shoulder to her boys on the couch.

"Great," Cal shot back.

Gillian could hear the rumble of his voice go back to reading. She sighed again. Hearing his voice so regularly again was great, it really was, and yet it also reminded her that she missed him.

**PJ**

"And then he ran straight into the wall!" Ajay finished.

Lewis, who was already red faced from giggling, broke into more peals of laughter. Emily chuckled, Gillian laughed lightly, and Cal nearly lost it with the reaction of his son. "That was funny was it?" Cal asked him.

"Wall!" Lewis crooned. He started giggling again, infectiously.

Ajay leaned over and ruffled his hair. "It wasn't that funny a story."

"Apparently it was," Emily responded. Gillian got up to clear the table and she quickly followed, offering to help with the dishes. The boys stayed seated, laughing at Lewis's amusement.

"You don't have to help," Gillian told Cal's daughter as she whipped open the dishwasher.

Emily waved her away easily. "It's really nice to come over and hang out," she offered instead.

"Yeah," Gillian gave a slight smile. "It's been too long."

"Mitigating circumstances," Emily responded. "Dad seems to be doing so well," she lowered her voice under Lewis's laughter.

"He really is," Gillian agreed but there was still something in her chest that wouldn't shift and it felt a lot like sadness.

"That's great," Emily enthused. "He seems like his old self."

"Yeah," Gillian concurred. Yes it was sadness, because she knew all the ways where Cal wasn't himself, where he was still frustrated by what his mind was limited to and by all those little things she wanted to talk to him about. But it wasn't entirely easy yet and she was biding her time. She wanted them to settle on the level they were currently, before moving on to the next level up. Actually, that reminded her...


	60. Chapter 60

_AN: M chapter_

**PJ**

"I said I'd help."

"And I said you cooked so you don't do the dishes," Gillian replied from the kitchen. She was loading the dishwasher for its second run of the night. That way, when they came down in the morning the bench would be clear and they could have breakfast without tripping over dirty pots and plates. Did she just say 'they'?

Gillian set the machine to run and turned out most of the kitchen lights before heading over to the couch where Cal was sitting with his laptop. "Finally cracked the password huh?" She leaned over the back of the couch to plant a kiss on his temple. On his right side, not the side with that caterpillar scar.

"Uh huh," he responded absently. He was looking at a word document. "You'll neva guess what it was."

"Lewis's birthday?" Gillian guessed as she moved around the couch to sit beside him.

Cal looked up at her surprised. "You _did_ know!"

"Lucky guess," she responded with a slight smile.

"Our weddin' anniversary," Cal corrected her.

"Incredibly obvious."

"Yeah I know," Cal winced. "So I changed it." He went back to the screen. "And then I wrote it down so I rememba what it is. Did you know I started anotha book?"

"No," Gillian dropped to the cushion heavily. "What was it about?" She leaned into the screen and cracked her skull into Cal's eye socket. "Sorry!"

"Ow," Cal complained. He raised a hand to his right eye, which Gillian immediately pulled back so she could kiss just beneath his eyebrow.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

"Nosey parka," Cal muttered.

"I'm sorry," Gillian repeated. She brought a hand up to smooth his other ear and kissed him again. "Better?"

"Much," Cal turned towards her, his eyes dark and she felt a shiver in her stomach that had been absent for too long. Gillian leaned forward again to press her lips against his. He kissed her back warmly and she felt him moving his laptop to the side. Then his hands were on her hips pulling her into the recently vacated space. She gave a little sigh, kissed him a little bit harder, letting her tongue tease along his lips, her fingers simultaneously through his hair on one side (still avoiding that scar) and down his throat on the other. She let herself be moved. Cal gave a guttural kind of groan and Gillian ground down further into his lap. He pulled away to get air and murmur her name.

"Let's go upstairs," she murmured.

"Gill," he sounded like he was pleading with her. "I want to..." he tried.

"Shh," she told him in a whisper, her eyes closed, words tumbling out between hot kisses, pressed against his nose and cheeks and lips. She knew what he meant. She could _feel_ what he was talking about. She knew. She understood. "It's ok. No pressure ok? Just stay with me tonight." She kissed him deeply. "Just don't leave right now. Ok?"

"Ok," he whispered back, his hands smoothing up her back.

"Ok," Gillian repeated. "Come upstairs." She moved off of him, turning to snag his hand and pull him to his feet behind her. She hurried him upstairs to their bedroom and pushed him down on to the bed. He tried to protest again and she shushed him once more. "I'm not asking you for anything," she told him a low voice. "I just want to be with you." And she was pleased to find him kissing her back with renewed fervour. "It's ok," she continued to murmur. "I just want you here."

He wasn't quite sure whereabouts on the bed they were, he was too busy being lost in his wife. His wife. Who was kissing him like she was on a mission, despite claiming otherwise and he found his body tentatively responding. He wanted her. She knew that right? He broke from her mouth to murmur against her neck; "I want you too Gill."

She gave a huff of air and her hips pressed up into his. Her fingers found their way beneath his shirt, tugging at the material and then he found it being pulled upwards around his neck. He had to sit back on his haunches to whip it off over his head and hands, tossing it to the side. He orientated himself. They were two feet from the pillows.

"Cal," Gillian breathed.

Oh yeah right, he was in the middle of something. He looked down at her, her eyes dark, but also slightly widened in surprise. She reached out a hand to his abdomen. Cal also looked down. Her fingertips brushed against his skin and his stomach quivered under her touch. "Wow all that physical therapy is really paying off."

Cal chuckled and Gillian laughed, propping herself up on her elbows. She gave a jerk of her chin, a 'come here' gesture. Cal obliged, leaning his abdomen over hers. "Course, now you're ovadressed," he muttered into her ear as he laid a series of kisses against her skin.

"Hmm," Gillian mused. She pushed him back gently, sitting up as he shifted back. She reached for the bottom of her shirt and tugged it off over her head, throwing it somewhere to join his.

Cal took her in appreciatively for a moment. He stared for too long. He could tell as Gillian shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry," he focussed on her eyes again. "It's just," he started as he leaned towards her again. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to see you in your undawear."

"Actually I do." Gillian chuckled again and wrapped her arms around his neck as their mouths met again.

Cal shifted so his left hip was resting against the bed, his body weight held up by his left elbow, his right hand free to roam over her bare skin. He smoothed down the curve of her side, waist and hip. Gillian shivered beneath him, turning her body against his so they were both mostly on their sides, but orientated tightly towards each other. Gillian's hand traced over the defined muscles of Cal's stomach, his right pectoral further up, to his shoulder, over the tattoo there. Cal sucked on her bottom lip, wet and hot, as his hand moved into the small of her back and then a little lower down. And when she didn't smack his hand away, but moved closer towards him, encouraging, he let it move further south.

"God your ass is fantastic," Cal let slip.

Gillian laughed. "I'm digging the fact that you work out now."

"Oh yeah?" Cal asked pleased. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and so much for no pressure, for just being together. He knew without a doubt where this was headed. Just how far it went depended on how much he had healed.

"Yeah," Gillian nodded.

"Might have to find myself a gym membaship then."

Gillian nodded slowly. "That could definitely work in your favour."

Cal gave her a smile and leaned in for another kiss. Gillian sighed into him, her hand now travelling south again. "Did you close the door?"

"What? No. Did you?"

"Go close it," she told him.

"Why?"

"Lewis."

"Oh," Cal sighed and rolled away from her. He hit the edge of the mattress and landed on his feet. He quickly crossed to the bedroom door and closed it, making sure to turn the knob so the catch clicked into place. When he turned back to face the room Gillian was settling under the covers. Her face was expectant and he almost shivered with dread. He shut it down before it could even start though. He wanted this. Whatever happened, he wanted this. He wanted to show her how he felt.

"Stop," Gillian held out her hand as he was about to climb back on the mattress. Cal hesitated. She looked up at him with a slight smirk. "Take your pants off."

"I'll take mine off if you take yours off," Cal brought his hands to the catch of his jeans.

"What makes you think I'm still wearing pants?"

"Oh good lord," Cal groaned. He undid the button and slid down the fly before pushing the denim over his hips and thighs. "I have to say, I'm likin' this side of you very much."

"Which side is that?" Gillian watched on.

"The filthy side."

"That's not filthy Cal. Not even close."

"Oh yeah?" He flicked back the covers to slip beneath them.

"Uh huh," Gillian nodded as she turned on to her hip to meet him, her hand gripping at the base of his neck, where it met his shoulder. "I'm just getting started." She pulled him forward into a searing kiss and Cal felt his stomach flip over to land hard in the bottom of his abdomen. His fingers tightened against her arms, one on her shoulder, one near her wrist. Her hand shifted, linked their fingers; her chest pressed against his, pushing him back once again. Cal could feel her bare thighs against his; she was in her underwear only. She nipped at his lips, then shifted to nuzzle along his jaw to his ear, tracing it with the very tip of her tongue. Cal gave a growl. He moved back, resting his back against the head of the bed, pulling her into his lap again, his hand squeezing her backside.

Cal felt the way her skin grew warmer against his, the way her lips and tongue moved so purposefully; she knew exactly what he liked and it was both fascinating and a little disconcerting: he didn't know what she liked. "Tell me," he murmured, the rest of the sentence getting cut off by her mouth.

Gillian pulled back, tracing her teeth down his throat again. "I love you," she responded and for a second Cal was startled. His hands gripped her upper arms, moving her away from him so he could see her face. Those were their words? She regarded him heavily, her eyes dark, her hair mussed, the flush over her cheeks and chest. And he understood. This was their magic. The rest of it, he was just going to have to figure out. He pulled her closer abruptly, pressed his lips firmly against hers, moving his arms to embrace her, his palms flat against her shoulder blades.

"I love you too," he whispered back.

Gillian descended on him. Good, he hadn't forgotten that. She pressed her tongue into his mouth again. He was being cautious with her and she wasn't sure if she liked the chivalry of it (it reminded her of their first night together) or was frustrated that he wouldn't take charge. He did want her right? Oh wait, that's right, she had a terrible habit of pressuring him. This wasn't supposed to go any further than he wanted it to. She smoothed her fingers down his arms and his hands came around to meet hers. Their fingers linked again and he squeezed. Twice. Her heart fluttered. He remembered that? She rubbed her hips against him and felt him give a full body twitch beneath her. Their mouths parted to pant air, their fingers dislodged back to exploring, lips met skin wherever they could.

"Touch me," Gillian begged her eyes falling closed.

Cal shifted his hands, tentatively and Gillian could tell he was watching her face. He inched his fingers up her back; her hands stilled on his chest and she waited. He reached the edge of her bra, slipped his fingertips beneath it, firm against her soft skin. Gillian was aware of how she gasped for breathe, how Cal's rhythm was the same as hers; how they were in sync. She could feel the heat rolling off him and she was waiting, just waiting... this had to come from him. If he stopped... god it would suck but she would respect that and that meant she couldn't completely let go, could she?

His fingers curled, unclasped her bra, shifted to brush the straps down over her arms. She felt the hitch of his breath as she was revealed to him, could almost hear him muttering his awe and delight. So much like their first time, he had no idea. And that was wrong, so wrong, but this was making it right again. She was determined now. She wanted this. He wanted this. It was important. They were weaving their magic again. She could feel it in the air around them, caressing with new familiarity. Could he feel it?

Cal's hands were tender on her breasts, his thumbs brushed over her nipples, sending rivulets of delight to her groin. The throbbing was getting insistent, harder to ignore; she sub-consciously pressed harder against him trying to ease the agony. And she _could_ hear him murmuring. Nothing in particular. He was murmuring nothing. A repetition. She listened harder, held her breathe, concentrated. Her name. "Gill, oh Gill." Her stomach quivered tighter.

"Cal," she breathed, her voice strangling in her throat. Oh God she wanted him so badly. She opened her eyes to see him looking up at her, that awe expression on his face that was his love expression. She dropped her mouth to his, fought back the urge to cry out as he hands became sure, confident. She whimpered instead, her hips rolling against his. He growled again, turned her over on her back, devoured her neck hotly. Gillian hugged his shoulders closer to her. He pressed himself against her groin, grinding and she felt it. He was excited. She reached for him, stroking through his underwear and he seemed to stop for a second, surprised, unsure. His head came up to look at her. "It's ok," she told him, her voice a firm whisper. "It's ok. No pressure. It doesn't matter."

But it did. To him. She knew that. But she didn't want him to think about it, to give in to the expectation; there was a reason they called it 'performance anxiety'. She tugged him closer, kissed him sweetly. "I love you Cal. No matter what. Always have."

He gazed at her in wonder. "Always have?"

"I always have," she admitted.

"Same for me. Always have. Always will. No matta what."

Gillian kissed him again, understood all the words he hadn't said, about the knock to his head, the robbery of his memories. That wouldn't hold him down, they wouldn't hold them back. She rolled her hips against his again and he broke to trail kisses down her neck, to her chest, to her breasts, discovering, taking charge. He dared to peel back her underwear and she shifted her hips to help, to encourage. He gave a little grunt in the back of his throat. His hands were everywhere, all over her legs as he removed her underwear, all over her skin, brushing fires into her pores until she was squirming, throwing back her head into half the pillow, half the mattress, her eyes flinging shut, fighting down that urge to scream at the ceiling.

And then hot, wet, firm against the very centre of her and she did cry out. "Cal!" Her hands tightened in the bed sheet and she arched so violently he pulled away again. Her eyes came open and it was hard to see him through her lust. "Don't stop," she begged and she didn't even care that her facade was slipping and he was seeing it all, everything she had been keeping hidden from him for the last three months. All of it. She watched him lower his mouth again, his eyes almost daring her to keep quiet this time and she failed. "Cal," she moaned. "Oh Cal!"

She wanted to hold out, she really did. She wanted this to last for a long time. Because it wasn't just about the simple gratification of ending three months without making love to her husband (shower didn't count!). This was their symphony and she wanted to dance on the clouds for the rest of forever. With him right at her side, holding her up, gently moving her the way he wanted to. She would let him. But she was gone, falling, collapsing within minutes, barely even minutes and she whimpered as he expertly ricocheted the fiercest pleasure through her as if he had done this before. She wondered if he remembered. How did he know the fastest way to make her explode? She would always try to second guess him, she realised as she came down from the high. She would always wonder how much and what he remembered. It would be like that from now on. She vowed to get used to it. She _would_ get used to it. She refused to let it come between them.

"Come here," she groaned, holding out shaking arms for him. He was there, within her embrace.

"Finally," he murmured. She opened her eyes to see him briefly before he was back at her neck, finding that sensitive spot beneath her ear that had her rubbing her hips against him again. And she was pleased to find he was more excited than before. "Huh?"

"Mmm," Gillian agreed, her fingers caressing his hair, then snaking down his back. She tucked them into the back of his underwear and squeezed his ass. He flinched into her and she took that advantage and ran with it. Her hands slid around the front, stroked him skin to skin, so he was the one holding his breath, gasping for air, letting out little grunts, muttering desperate little 'oh's' right in her ear.

And when he swelled further and further beneath her grasp until it was uncomfortable to be pressed so tightly together she pinched his stomach with her fingernails and he recoiled and she sat slightly to pull down his underwear. He seemed surprised again, looking down between them as she worked. "God Gillian!" He groaned again and when he still held it together she tentatively pushed against his chest so he lay back. She climbed carefully over his lap, like he was breakable and saw just the smallest flicker of fear in his eyes as she guided him into her.

"It's ok," she told him again, murmuring as she slid down, taking her weight on her knees either side of his hips. More fear as she took all of him in and rested her hands on his stomach to steady herself. She leaned down to press a soft kiss on his cheek, then the other side, "It's ok," she repeated. "Just relax."

"That's what I'm afraid of," his voice strained.

Gillian pressed gentle kisses over his forehead, his cheek bones and she waited. She waited to feel the tension in his arms dispel, the slight arching of his thighs behind her. When the anticipation unwound from his body she moved her hips upwards, slowly, carefully, all the time in the world, all the patience for him. It didn't matter anymore. This was almost perfect just how it was. The burning ache in her belly grew to be uncomfortable as she pushed down again but it didn't matter. She would kill it like every other time. She would do that for him. This was for him.

Cal gave another short groan and his hands found their way again, coming to rest on her thighs, caressing the skin there, encouraging her. Gillian picked up the tempo a little, testing it out, seeing how it worked. She could tell he was concentrating and she chose to ignore it. She kissed his temples, both sides, her fingers against his skull, holding on and comforting. This was for her too. She needed this just as badly as he did. Cal pressed up from the bed to meet her on the downward stroke and she shivered, squirmed, let loose an excited "oh!"

"Gill," he murmured. "God," and it came out sounding like a cross between 'gah' and 'goh' and 'ugh'. He wasn't making sense and suddenly his hands were on her hips, tipping her over to the bed, his hips following her, not even breaking the rhythm; she let out another desperate cry. His hand pulled her hip towards him roughly and she could feel his knee against her ass as he attempted his first thrust. She could her him pant for a second, gathering himself again but it felt like no time passed at all between waves of pleasure.

Her hands reached for him desperately, clamping down on his forearm, connecting with his face. "Again," she demanded, daring to open her eyes and look up at him. Gone was the confusion and worry, here was the excited independence with no restraints. So far. He looked happy and the hand at his face caressed over his temple again, his left one, the side that was damaged.

Cal obliged, getting stronger as he worked, more determined and she could see it in his eyes, prouder. He leaned down for a kiss, finding a pounding cadence that had her toes squirming desperately for purchase against the bed to help him. She could feel herself being drawn to him like he had worked invisible lines around her torso and was winding them in. Gillian wrapped her arms around his shoulders again, hanging on, the sweat of their bodies letting their skin slide friction free over each other, mingling as they became one.

"Harder," slipped out of Gillian's mouth, into his hair, unashamedly desperate. She felt his knee shift, his hips lower their angle and she arched as he found that particularly sensitive spot within her. He stumbled then.

"I can't," he struggled out. "I'm sorry Gill, I can't."

"It's ok," she soothed, her hands sure against his neck and into the back of his soft hair. "It's ok," and she waited for the tell tale signs that it was over but that was not what he meant. He wasn't warning her. She could hear his laboured breathing clearly; feel the pull of his muscles. He had reached his limit of physical exertion. He was better but he wasn't quite back to his old strength. She shifted her legs, brought them higher up his thighs and he brought down a hand, one at a time, to hook her by the knee and pull each limb to his waist. He pumped into her shallowly and she just about died. And then he pushed into her harder and deeper and the distant never ending agony was suddenly right there waiting for her. "Cal," she murmured.

"Go," he whispered back. She had lost track of his face but he sounded close and she realised she couldn't see the room anymore. She didn't know if her eyes were open or closed but either way she saw lights flash as Cal brought her to ecstasy. She heard him cry out and felt him quiver all along her body, his ripples matching hers, then hitting the edge and creating conflicting patterns. It felt like she had been holding her breath as she became aware of that first gasp and when her eyes focussed again he was there, looking down at her, grinning and she laughed and felt lighter than she had in so fucking long she couldn't even remember when all the darkness had begun. And then his face fell into a concerned frown.

"Are you cryin'?"


	61. Chapter 61

"Are you cryin'?"

Was she? She was! A sob shook her chest and she swatted at tears and he was moving away from her to regain his balance. "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No!"

He shifted on to his side, pulling the covers up over her, trying to cradle her but it was awkward and she had no idea why she was crying but she felt awful all of a sudden. She fought him, trying to sit up, to pick up her composure where she must have left it on the floor. But Cal's arms were there and he was strong and she caved. She turned into his chest and sobbed again and let him hold her.

"Did I do somethin'?" Cal murmured, his large hands warm as they pressed into her back. She could feel the rigidity of his body, the concern, worry, fear.

"No," she shook her head.

"Was it somethin' I didn't do? Somethin' I should have?" His voice was tender but there was still that edge to it.

"No it's not you!" She protested. "It's me." She blubbered. She blew tears and spit against the hollow of his throat, into the gap between his collar bones. She clung on and muttered what sounded like nonsense against his skin. She missed him. She had missed him so much. Everything had been so fucked up in the last few months and she had struggled. She had felt like she was going under. She couldn't do it alone. She begged him to stay with her. To never ever leave ever again. He tried shushing her, his tone bewildered but she just carried on. Everything came out. Everything. Everything she had done, had feared, those nights she cried herself to sleep, the guilt she felt over that day in the shower, the abject terror that she wasn't there enough for Lewis. She felt like she had failed both her boys and she was just so desperately alone.

"Jesus Gill," Cal's hand finally grabbed her shoulder and drew her back. "It's ova now. It's ok," he whispered her own words back to her. "You're perfectly fine and Lewis is fine. I'm fine. We're fine now. All right? It's ova. I'm not leavin'. I'm not goin' anywhere. I'll be right here with you. Always."

Gillian nodded along, wanting to believe him but fearing this was a dream. '_Please don't let this be a dream_.'

Cal's tender hands pulled her back against his chest and held her tightly, smoothing through her hair, his lips brushing against her forehead, whispering in her ear that it was over now and eventually the tears dried up and her chest stilled and she fell asleep, safe there in her husband's warm arms.

**PJ**

Gillian woke sometime in the night and she was still there, against his chest, but he had moved a little, so there was a pillow under his head and his back was flat against the mattress. She felt a little stiff, her blood sluggish from being still in one position for too long and shifted and then she was aware that he was awake.

"Hey," he whispered into the darkness. He must have put the light out too and Gillian was amazed; she must have been unconscious to not notice it.

"Hi," she replied with a croak. She moved more, feeling returning to her limbs. "Why are you awake?"

"Thinkin'," he responded, shifting with her, turning on to his side to face her.

"About?"

"Well mostly what we just did."

Gillian could hear the smile in his tone and grinned slightly. "Yeah," she agreed. It was definitely worth a replay.

"And a few otha thigns."

"Like what?" Gillian prompted again, sensing, even if she was half asleep, that he wanted to talk, he had something on his mind he wanted to tell her.

"I found pills in your drawer."

"Pills?" She queried lightly.

"Anti-depressants."

A little shock of panic had her feeling more alert. "What were you doing in my drawers?" She had forgotten about those.

"I was lookin' for my drawers."

Gillian waited. Did he have a point?

"Why didn't you tell me you were on anti-depressants?"

"I'm not," she blurted. "I shouldn't even have gotten it filled."

"Why not?"

"Because it was stupid."

"I meant," Cal interrupted. "Why did you fill it and then not take them?"

"I," she stopped. "I didn't want to."

"Did you need to though? I mean, afta the accident, I would undastand that."

She hesitated. She wasn't sure she wanted to admit weakness; that she hadn't entirely coped. She thought of his mother.

"It's ok," Cal's voice was soothing. She could see his outline beside her in bed and it struck her hard all of a sudden that they had actually made love tonight and he was here beside her. And he was trying. Really trying. He was telling her things, private things he would normally (as in, Cal 2009 normal) keep to himself. And now he was gently pushing her to be open with him too.

"It was really tough Cal. With you in the hospital and trying to look after Lewis and yeah, there were days when I felt like the world was smothering me."

His hand stroked over her skin in a comforting way. But he remained silent, waiting for her to go on and it wasn't an accusation, she realised, but he was asking her for information. And she needed to share it. So she didn't crack open with grief every time they had sex, or were intimate in anyway. She needed to unload a little.

"So yeah, there were days when I really wanted to take those little white pills and make it all go away but I also knew I needed to hold on and be strong, for you and Lewis. To prove to myself that I could do it."

"You don't have to be a miracle worka," his voice caressed over her.

"Not that. More like, there was only me left to deal with everything and I wanted to face it, instead of burying my head in the sand, which would have been so easy."

"Oh you're talkin' about New York?"

Yes, she supposed she was, in some way. "I took them once." And yes, Cal's hand did stiffen against her slightly and she wondered why he was so offended; she was a psychologist, she used to prescribe anti-depressants on a regular basis... oh... "And I hated how they made me feel. Like I was slightly outside myself. So I didn't take them again."

'_I'm not your mother Cal. I promise_.'

"I needed to sharpen whatever focus I had to be present for you and make decisions and to look after Lewis and our business. So I didn't want them. I didn't want to muddle the reality I was facing." Her hand came up, almost unbidden, to touch his face, and she hesitated, told herself she was being stupid, and forced herself to touch him anyway. She placed her palm against his cheek and he turned his jaw immediately to kiss her skin. It sent a little shiver through her and he must have felt it because he shifted closer, his hand tightening on her hip now.

"I think you're terribly brave," he murmured.

It washed over her, his words, like a cool whisper against sweating desperate skin. Gillian bent her arm to press herself against him and she was rudely reminded they were naked. Completely naked. And she wanted him again but now was not the right time. She brought her focus back to her mind. This was poignant. Focus.

"Thank you," she whispered back. "I tried."

"I think, considerin', you did fantastically. You put up with too much of my shit."

She gave a slight laugh; couldn't really help it. And then she heard Cal chuckle too and it felt like they were standing on the same side of a cavern laughing at the echoes, pointing out the shadows were really just tricks of light; there really was nothing to be scared of anymore. Not when they had each other.

**PJ**

When Gillian woke again it was daylight. She turned on to her back, warm, content, and knowing something was different but was unable to place it. The blanket was up to her chin and her pillow had never felt more comfortable and she could feel a foreign foot against the back of her calf. She pried her eyes open, turning her head, Cal was still there, on his side, facing her, sleeping. He looked so peaceful, all the lines from his face gone. Gillian watched him for a moment and then slipped out from beneath the covers. She needed the bathroom and she didn't regret sneaking out because tomorrow when she woke up, he would be there too.

When Cal woke up and Gillian was gone he was a little panicked. Was she hiding from him again? Like that last time he had stayed over? He turned to his back, looked around the room with bleary eyes. Nope. She wasn't there and he couldn't hear the shower. She might be waking Lewis. What time was it? He rolled to see the clock. It was time to get up. He had appointments to keep today. He threw back the covers, found himself utterly naked, spotted his underwear on the floor and reached for it. If he had dared that move a month ago he would have ended up face down on the carpet. Hell if he'd attempted some of those moves last night he would have ended up face down on the mattress.

Cal shuffled towards the bathroom, picking crap out of his eye and suddenly stopped short on the threshold. Gillian was at the sink, applying eyeliner, half dressed; her lower half. He stared. He stared and stared and stared, just standing there stunned. It's just that... he wasn't expecting her to be in there for one, or standing there in a black A-frame skirt and bra for another, nor was he prepared for the overwhelming rush of desire and other feelings he couldn't name but that combined probably equalled love. He hadn't known love like this before. It made him want to double over to the floor and huddle up on himself. He felt assaulted, scared and yet... somehow... addicted.

"Good morning," Gillian's voice floated across the space to him. She was watching him in the reflection of the mirror as she prepared to coat mascara to her eye lashes.

"Uh," Cal responded, his balls in this throat, images of last night behind his eye lids. He felt his groin twitch and knew he was back.

"Did you want something?" Gillian queried lightly.

"The loo," he gestured. "But I can go down the hall."

Gillian straightened up from where she had been leaning in to the mirror to see. "That's ok." She put the mascara back in her drawer. "I've finished." She took something else from the compartment and tossed it in the trash, then turned and approached where he stood. But Cal saw. That little brown bottle of synthetic happiness. So symbolic. He might have laughed if she didn't smell like soap and perfume and desire. She reached up to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth open because he was having such a surreal moment right now (and he had no idea why. He had seen her naked last night. Oh wait, he got it, the normalcy of it. This was an everyday thing for her and it was going to be the same for him. Soon.) Then Gillian's cool fingers came up to wipe away the smudge of lipstick and she gave him a slight smile before walking around him to finish getting dressed.

Cal sucked in a deep breath, feeling his head clear a little. Good lord, she could do that to him a seven thirty in the morning just by putting make up on in the bathroom? He forced himself to take a step, pushing the door closed a little behind him, hearing Gillian say good morning to their son. Normal. It all felt so normal. Breakfast, making Lewis's lunch, kissing goodbye in the car as she dropped him at the rehab centre. Normal. A new brand of normal. And it felt fantastic.


	62. Chapter 62

Cal sat in the waiting room twiddling his thumbs. The waiting killed him because he thought of all the things he'd rather be doing right now, like picking his son up from day care, starting dinner for his family, making love to his wife. He wanted to blow off this appointment. Its timing made him uncomfortable. Just when he was finally allowed to ease off on his physical therapy, when Doctor Wu was happy to cut back their sessions to once a week, this reminder of a disease he didn't even recall was disconcerting. It almost seemed irrelevant. But there was no way Gillian would let him get away with not being there. He hadn't even told her his thoughts on the subject and already he could hear her kicking his ass. He could concede it was important to get checked out (again, these were annual visits after all), just not right now. Gillian's response would be: the sooner the better. Get it over and done with. Be sure.

Cal was up at the hospital. Another hospital. Where they seemed to know him; polite but recognising smiles. They knew his name. Knew why he was there. It still unsettled him a little, to encounter that. But he was getting used to it and he was getting used to covering it up too. He was piecing together information every day. His notebook was almost full and he found he didn't really need it as much as he used to. His memories of the past might allude him but the techniques Holly had taught him for remembering the present helped a lot.

A young man entered the waiting space and stopped, staring at Cal for a second, before giving him a wide grin and coming to sit next to him. He waved hello. Cal waved back, feeling a pin prick of caution.

The young man brought his hands to his chest, the fingers cupped slightly facing downwards. He rolled his hands forwards, towards Cal, so the fingers ended upwards. Then he pointed at Cal with a questioning expression.

Ah shit. This kid knew him. And he was deaf. Cal didn't remember him or how to sign (aside from the basics). So he was trapped. '_But come on Cal, you're a man of science, observation and deduction. So what do you know?_' This young man, he didn't speak as he signed and Cal deduced he was culturally deaf.

"Do you read lips?" Cal asked.

The boy nodded, a slight frown on his face. Cal explained that he had knocked his head, he showed the boy his scar, and he didn't remember. The boy nodded, realisation hitting him hard. He sat quietly for a moment. Then he signed slowly 'no' (closing his index and middle finger against his thumb like a beak closing on a bird while shaking his head slightly) 'sign' (making 'one' hands and moving them in a large Ferris wheel action angled towards his body as opposed to perpendicular), the questioning expression still on his face.

Cal had to think about that one and then after studying the kid's hands for a long time, shook his head slightly. He made a 'little' gesture and implored his eyes, apologising but hoping the kid would get it. He seemed terribly disappointed; Cal didn't need to know sign language to see that. He pointed to the younger man and signed 'name' (two 'H' hands, the fingers tapping their edges against each other twice.) with a questioning expression on his face.

The response was finger spelled slowly for Cal's convenience. Scissored index and middle finger with the thumb pressed against the middle finger. All fingers pressed along the edge of the thumb tucked against the palm. The index finger and middle finger pressed together over the thumb, tucked tightly against the palm, while the ring and pinky finger were pressed against the palm like forming a fist. Then the last letter, the fingers flat against the palm with the thumb poking up between the middle and index fingers.

Cal watched avidly, carefully, nodded he understood. "Kent."

Kent nodded, pleased.

"Where did we meet?" Cal asked him.

Kent pointed to the floor 'here'. Cal nodded again. So Kent was a cancer patient. Probably explained why he was so skinny. "You're here for an appointment?" Kent nodded again and pointed at Cal. "Yes," Cal confirmed. "Me too."

Kent seemed to search for the right words for a moment, then gave Cal another questioning expression and brought his hands up with the index fingers pointing forward, the hands were closed but the palms were orientated towards the ceiling; he rolled his hands over at the wrist so the back of his hands were now up.

Cal shook his head slightly. He didn't understand. "Sorry."

Kent quickly grabbed at Cal's hand, gave it a brief squeeze and shook his head; he was saying it didn't matter. He made a 'writing' gesture in the air, as if he were holding a pen; and the same questioning expression. Cal shifted to pull his notebook out of his back pocket and the pen, flipped through to a clean page and offered it to Kent. Kent took it and scrawled just two words: what happened? He gave the book back to Cal.

"I fell, off some scaffolding," Cal explained, keeping his tone normal, but slowing down his speech just a little. Kent's eyes flickered from his lips to his eyes. He nodded. "I was in a coma and when I woke up," he gave a slight shrug. "I couldn't rememba things."

Kent nodded again. A nurse called Cal, he told her he'd be just a second. Kent looked over his shoulder to see who Cal was talking to. "I have to go," Cal told him. "Is your Mum or Dad here?"

Kent nodded, gestured his hand towards the nurses' station where a middle aged woman was talking with someone. Cal turned his attention back to the kid. "If it's all right with your Mum, would you teach me to sign?"

Kent stared at him for a split second before nodding vigorously. Cal pulled his wallet from his pocket and retrieved a business card. "Your Mum is hearing?" Kent confirmed. "Ask her to call me ok?" Cal gave him the card and got up. Kent nodded enthusiastically, smiling. Cal gave the young man's shoulder a squeeze as he left the waiting area and hurried down to where the nurse who had called him was waiting. She gestured him inside to Doctor George's office. She gave him a smile in greeting from her desk, where she was reading through Cal's file. Cal leaned over her desk to shake her hand. "How you doin'?" He asked politely. He had been expecting a man, what with a name like Sam George.

"Fine thank you," she gestured he should take a seat. "How are you doing?"

"Feel fine," he answered honestly. He really did. The last three months had been hell but he was finally at a point where saying he was 'fine' actually had some truth to it. He wondered if the oncologist knew about his brain injury. How linked were all his medical files? This made doctor number four; oncologist, neurologist, psychologist and general practitioner.

George gave him a smile. "That's good."

"No complaints anyway," Cal added with far less enthusiasm, aware that he was over compensating because he wanted to be fine. This whole cancer thing was a completely unknown quantum. He had meant to talk to Gillian about it before coming to the appointment, but well, he had forgotten, and she was a terrible distraction.

"That's a good sign," George reassured him. She got up from her desk and went to the side bench where she donned gloves and got a small light and tongue depressor so she could check the back of Cal's throat. She asked him to join her and take a seat on the examination table. Cal followed her over dutifully. She checked around his neck and throat for swollen lymph nodes or other lumps. But Cal had managed to remember that that morning; curiosity more than anything else. Cal hadn't found anything; neither did the doctor. She made him take his shirt off and checked the lymph node sites in his arm pits though. She told him she didn't feel anything out of the ordinary and he was relieved by that. He also appreciated her candour. His GP had an annoying habit of keeping his mouth shut until the end of the appointment. Hey! Strike that one down to another memory!

She shone the light down his throat next, doing a visual check for lumps on the site where he had had cancer cut from two years ago now. She told him it looked good. Cal gave a little grunt in response; it was rude to try and talk while she had her fingers in his mouth. She checked his lips, gums and tongue as well, making sure she was thorough. While she wrote up his notes and he put his shirt back on, Dr George asked him how he was sleeping, if he felt more tired than usual, if he had muscle fatigue or pain anywhere. Cal responded: fine, no, no and no.

George told him he looked good and sent him down the way for a blood sample. The nurse who drew his blood had done it last time too. Apparently. She recognised Cal, he could tell, but she didn't say anything about it and neither did he; he didn't recognise her. Once he was outside again, he turned his phone on and called Gillian.

"How'd it go?"

"Fine," Cal responded heading down the line for the taxi at the head of the queue. "Nothin' to report. No weird lumps. Just have to wait for the blood sample to come back."

"Ok," Gillian sounded relieved even with those two syllables.

"On my way..." To where? Where was he headed? He hadn't moved back in yet and it didn't feel right to push it again. Not after Gillian had made it so clear she was not going to tolerate anything wishy washy from him. Sure, they'd taken a massive leap forward last night and that was fantastic, but perhaps he still had a bit to prove. That was ok. He'd do it. He had hope.

"To?" Gillian questioned lightly.

"Where are you right now?"

"At the office."

"Then I'll head there," Cal opened the cab door and slid into the back seat. He gave the address to the driver and sat back, making sure to put his seatbelt on and that it 'made a click'.

"Ok," Gillian agreed. "Good."

Cal told her he wouldn't be long and disconnected the call. Funny how he automatically rang her. He knew she would worry. He wanted to assuage her fears. So he did it. Funny how five years ago he would have been so bloody minded and stubborn to purposefully not. Funny how everything had changed. Funny how he could see that now. Wait, the tone in her voice: not funny. Something was wrong. Not funny at all.

**PJ**

This was only the second time Cal had been back to the Lightman Group since the accident. He actually felt a little sense of dread, or was that churning feeling nerves? And was that to do with the fact that it had been so long and it half felt like he had been shirking his responsibilities, or was it that little something in Gillian's tone that had worried at his mind because he couldn't identify it properly?

Cal paid the cabbie and headed up. His name was still on the wall, the portrait of faces was the same. The bodies in the corridor were different though, but friendly enough, because they smiled at him, tight lipped and slightly cautious, eyes knowing and judging and he knew that someone or Gillian, had told them about his memory loss. And he felt relieved that he didn't have to pretend but at the same time, a little less of himself. If he didn't have his bravado then he was a whittled down former version of himself. He was going to have to rectify it. When was he allowed to come back to work? He suspected it involved another fruitless conversation with Rockwell.

Cal raised a hand slightly to Loker, who was in the break room and headed left towards Gillian's office. She was at her desk and he could see her as he approached. She looked worried and that dread took another stab at gnawing at his guts. Perhaps this was the absolute right time for him to be back at work. Maybe he could talk to Wu about it. He felt more like an ally. The psychologist might be able to talk to the neurologist on his behalf. Cal would even settle for light duties.

He strode up to Gillian's door and gave it a light tap before pushing it open, flashing back to the days when she wasn't his wife and he had to respect her sanctum. Did those rules still apply? She didn't knock when coming into his office. Although, to be fair, he often had his door open in invitation for her. _Stay in the present Cal_.

"Hi," she gave him a smile as he came in.

"Hi," he grinned back and he couldn't help it. The way the sun came in and shone her hair, caressed her cheeks... god damn.

Gillian got up and came over. "When will you get the blood test back?" She stopped in front of him, a little furrow of concern.

"Oh you know, the standard three to four days, which means next week."

Gillian nodded, attempted a smile, faltered.

"What's goin' on with you?" Cal asked her gently, bringing a hand to her upper arm, squeezing slightly, then caressing down to her elbow.

She seemed a little surprised but covered it and her eyes flickered to her desk. She paused for a second, looked like she was debating with herself. "Actually. I'm glad you came in. Because there's something I need to talk to you about."

"Talk away," Cal immediately responded, hoping he didn't sound completely eager and wishing that whatever the problem was, he might actually be some help to her in trying to solve it.

Gillian turned, her hand on his arm, and tugged him towards the couches opposite her desk. They were the same. He hadn't thought to notice last time he was there. So was the art on her walls, and as he looked around, he realised the rest of the room hadn't changed in the slightest. There was a new picture frame on her desk and perhaps that plant in the corner was bigger, or just a completely different species. But it was the same. It was comforting that way.

"So what's up?" Cal queried lightly, knowing this was, with certainty, work related, as he took a seat on the edge of the cushion next to his wife. He watched the concern worry at her eyebrows, this time, for once, not directed at him.

"Something has happened," she started and then she paused and she seemed to gather herself. Cal realised she hadn't rehearsed this; she had probably debated over telling him in the first place. She brought her eyes up to meet his. "And I have no idea how to handle it. I need your help."


	63. Chapter 63

"Ok," Cal almost sighed but stopped himself. Gillian's words dried up and she looked up at him tentatively, from her fingers to his face. He felt the need to say something else, but the truth was, he had no idea. Gillian didn't dare say something stupid like 'I'm sorry' or 'will you forgive me?' because she knew better than to be insecure and self depreciating. This wasn't her fault, even if it had happened on her watch, and she wasn't going to sit there and feel bad about it, searching him out to make her feel better. She was asking him for his help. She was telling him so they could form a plan of retaliation, an offense. "Bring the files home," Cal suggested. "And I'll think about it. And then we can come up with a plan of attack."

Gillian nodded firmly. "Sounds good to me."

They got up from the couch. Cal asked her if she was going to be home early and her response was doubtful. "I'll expect you the usual time then," Cal said, leaning in to give her cheek a kiss and she gave him such a loaded smile in response his knees almost gave out on him. "Save it," he told her roughly. "For when you get home."

Gillian gave him a slight laugh and Cal broke out into a grin, his stomach dancing; fuck it felt good being in love with her. She stepped forward to give him a kiss on the lips, brief, mostly chaste but definitely a farewell. She gave a little sigh before pushing away from him and fuck it felt good having her in love with him. He told her he'd see her later. She agreed, another sultry little smile as she moved around her desk again. Cal walked out of her office on shaky legs. God. Damn. Promises and images and nakedness and last night and oh god he seriously couldn't think straight.

It took him far too long to realise his phone was ringing. He was outside by now, grateful for fresh air and a cool breeze. His head cleared and, yep, that was his phone. He pulled it from his pocket, amazed still that despite what Gillian had told him, she had almost managed to completely undercut his concentration.

"Yeah?"

"Oh I'm looking for Doctor Lightman?"

"You've got him."

"My name is Maddy Strong. You spoke with my son Kent today?"

"Yes!" Cal perked up. "I-I-I did." And all of a sudden he realised how bad that sound. An adult male, talking with a young man... kind of weird...

"He told me about you when you were in the oncology ward. Several years ago?"

"Yes," Cal confirmed.

"He said your boy was hard of hearing and you were learning to sign."

"That's right."

"And that today, you asked him to teach you how to sign?"

"Yes."

"And I should call you."

"Yes," Cal confirmed once more. "Yes I'm glad you called. I really need the help."

"How old is your boy?"

"Lewis is four."

"Have you recently discovered his hearing loss?"

"No, uh, well, no. He's been hearing impaired since his birth but I just, did Kent tell you? I need to relearn?"

"Yes he said," she responded softly.

"I can tell he's keen but if you're not comfortable I would completely undastand."

"Kent's eighteen."

Seriously!? He looked about fifteen.

"So he's old enough to make his own decisions."

"Oh sorry I just..."

"He's small for his age," Maddy supplied.

"Yeah," Cal agreed.

"Listen, I'll give him your number so he can text you. Maybe you could encourage him to meet somewhere public."

"Of course," Cal agreed. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"Always happy to help. Maybe you could bring your wife and son over for coffee sometime. It helps to talk to other parents."

Cal thanked her again and they hung up and he realised she had a valid point. Did he and Gillian spend much time with other parents of hearing impaired or deaf children? There was a whole community of them out there. How had they learned to sign in the first place? Oh yeah, there was talk of a tutor and the books...

Cal went to pick up Lewis from day care and took the boy home. Lewis asked to make play dough. Cal obliged, googling a recipe. And when Gillian came home they made dinner and ate together, sitting outside to enjoy the late summer evening. Lewis attempted to feed parts of his quiche to the birds until Cal told him off. If he wanted to feed the birds, he could get the crust of the end of the loaf. So Lewis hoped down to get it and with him gone Cal's foot immediately fished out Gillian's calf under the table. They sat opposite each other at the outside table, Lewis had the head. Gillian's eyes came up sharply from her salad and her fork stumbled against the mizuna. Cal gave her a grin. She gave him a slight smile in response. Lewis screeched his arrival back outside and Gillian turned her head absently to tell him off.

"Did you bring home the files?"

"Yes," she cleared her throat slightly as she looked back at her husband.

Cal reached over and snagged a few stray pieces of bacon from Lewis's plate. He nodded. The prospect of a project to work on was looking very appealing right now. His days were small blocks of time stretched out between hours of nothing. He was so excited about getting Lewis in the afternoons he had taken to showing up early to hang out at the day care centre with the other kids.

"You have a good day?" Gillian asked softly over the squeals of Lewis ripping off hunks of bread from his slice and throwing them up in the air, tipping his head back to watch them fall, sometimes back in his face. Cal chuckled slightly watching him. Gillian shifted her leg suddenly so his foot slid up to her knee.

"Sorry? Am I not payin' enough attention to you?"

"No you're not," Gillian shot back. The sun reflected off her eyes, her skin glowed. Good lord, when had she got so beautiful?

Cal swivelled around in his chair further, to give her the full heat of his gaze. He watched how the colour rose in her cheeks slightly and still he stared, taking in the soft curves of her shoulders, the swell of her chest. Blatantly picturing her naked. He stared until he started to feel prickly and Gillian shifted in her seat. "I had a fantastic day," Cal responded. He told her about Kent. He told her about the play dough. He asked about the rest of her afternoon.

"Uneventful," Gillian responded lightly, picking up her glass of white wine and sipping it. She took the smallest mouthful.

"When do you put your son to bed?" Cal asked in a low voice. He watched how Gillian stilled slightly, her gaze just that little bit sharper on his, deducing. Cal waited her out; saw how she was slightly startled, panicked and then clicked, realised he was teasing her, that he was showing her knew something about their 'in-jokes'. He was trying to make it normal again.

Gillian slid her wine glass back to the table. "Not until later. But will you stick around?"

"Could be persuaded."

She gave him a smile.

"Don't like your wine?" Cal queried lightly.

"It's no fun drinking alone," she pouted and pushed back her chair to get up. Cal wasn't allowed to drink and so he supposed that was a fair enough comment. The wine followed her around for the rest of the evening but she made little effort to finish the glass and it went down the sink while the bottle went into the fridge.

When Lewis exhausted himself heaving bread around the backyard, coming in several times for more slices, which Cal then put a limit on, the four year old flopped himself down on the couch, right next to where Cal was rubbing Gillian's feet. "Lewis," Cal half complained. "You're crampin' my style." He let Gillian go as Lewis rolled into his leg and draped himself over Cal's lap.

"Camping your sty," Lewis repeated.

Cal looked over at Gillian. He signed 'bed' placing his open palm on the side of his head, tilting it to the side slightly. With his other, he tried to fend Lewis off, who was giggling now. "I'm not even tryin' to tickle you!" Cal, after getting a nod from Gillian, used both hands to pull Lewis into a kneel on his thighs. "It's bedtime now," he told his son.

"Aw," Lewis immediately complained. "But didn't have reading."

"That's because you were playin' outside. But if you go up now, and put your pyjamas on and brush your teeth and go to the toilet, I'll read you a story in bed before lights out."

Lewis nodded glumly. "Ok," he agreed and slid down Cal's legs to the floor. Then slowly picked himself up and headed around the couch.

Cal waited for Lewis to leave the room, aware that Gillian was watching him. When the boy finally disappeared around the doorway Cal leaned down to where she was lying, head resting against the arm of the couch, and murmured, "And then I'm puttin' you to bed." Gillian's smile was slow but deadly and Cal wasn't sure of who was really teasing whom.

Gillian shifted away from him, sitting up and levering herself off the couch. "I'll get those files then."

Cal's arms were around her in a second. He kissed her shoulder. "So long as you don't mind makin' love all ova the top of them."

Gillian laughed slightly. She brought a hand back to squeeze his neck, then caress the soft hair at the back of his skull while he embraced her. "Making love, then the files. Deal?"

"Deal," Cal agreed softly.

"But first, put your son to bed."

"Your son," he grumbled as he pulled away and headed for the door. Gillian followed after him, that happy warmth spreading through her. She went to her bag and pulled the two blue files of data she had spent the last few weeks putting together. It had taken her that long to gather what she considered everything, but as she looked, she had found the evidence spanned back for months.

**PJ**

Cal nuzzled his nose into her neck, below her jaw, in that little hollow beside her throat. Gillian came back to her senses, her skin flushed, her lungs working for air. She brought a heavy hand to the nape of his neck and soothed her fingers along his skin. He murmured something she didn't hear, or understand, and pulled him back gently by the hair. "Huh?" she asked him, noting his eyes were still dark and he had a slack gooey kind of warmth to them.

"I said, you're fantastic." He grinned and Gillian smiled in return, caressing his hair. He gazed at her for a few long seconds, then leaned down to give her a kiss. "Files?" He asked gently and Gillian let a loose laugh escape her.

"I wondered how long it would take you."

"Hey," Cal complained as they moved. "I was in the moment wasn't I?"

"Yes," Gillian agreed slipping off the bed to find clothes. "You were very in the moment." She shot him a dark expression over her shoulder as she found his shirt on the floor. She was aware of Cal watching her intently as she bent to pick it up and pulled it over her head. She crossed the room to get the files from her dresser, where she had dumped them hurriedly before joining him in bed.

"Gill?"

"Yes?" She turned, the heavy weight of files in her hands and walked back to her side of the bed, Cal's eyes following her the whole way.

"Are you," he started slowly. He seemed unsure and it still unsettled a little piece of Gillian's heart to see him like that. "No," he corrected himself. "I mean, am I... how am I doin'?"

Gillian sat on the mattress and dropped the files into the middle of the bed, swivelling her legs around and kicking them under the thin blankets. "Wouldn't you have a better idea of how to answer that?"

"I mean," Cal pressed firmly. "Am I, are you, you know, satisfied?" He seemed embarrassed to ask, like it left a funny taste in his mouth. He avoided her eye while he talked but with the words finally out he looked up at her, from where he was leaning on his pillow with his elbow. He was spread out on his side, at an angle, so his feet were hanging off the edge of the mattress and the sheet was over his waist only, so it covered his pelvis, leaving chest and thighs tantalisingly exposed.

Gillian leaned down to his mouth and pressed a decisive kiss there. "You know I am," she told him in a low voice. She gave him another kiss before straightening up again. She actually felt a little light headed.

"Can I ask you somethin'?"

"You just did," Gillian responded absently as she pulled the files towards where she sat, leaning against the head of their bed. Their bed. Her stomach quivered.

"Gill," Cal put a hand over her arm gently to stop her from moving, to stop her from brushing away the conversation. She stopped, looked at him, giving him her attention. "Are you seein' someone?"

Gillian gave a little frown before understanding what he was asking.

"Cos you said you were talkin' to your friend."

"Casey," Gillian supplied.

"Are you still?"

"No," Gillian shook her head.

"Why not?"

She shrugged. "I don't really feel the need."

"Then, are you all right?"

"Yes."

"Cos, I just want you to be ok." He gave her a steady gaze.

Gillian stared into his blue eyes, watching them shift slightly from side to side as he studied hers. "I'm ok Cal. Lewis is doing great, and you and I are doing better. And once we sort this out," she gestured vaguely to the files in her peripheral vision. "Then... I'll just have you to worry about." She attempted a smile but he didn't return it and she suddenly realised how serious a conversation this was for him. "Things haven't been easy Cal, you know that, so it will take time to get back to 'great'."

"Where are we now then?"

"Neutral," Gillian supplied cautiously. "Where do you think we are?"

"Mostly I'm relyin' on you for that."

"Well," she started, feeling a flare of frustration. "Don't. We're a team, a partnership, you need to have a feeling about how we are too. You can't just always read it off of me."

Cal nodded slowly. "That's a fair point."

"How do you feel about us?"

"Mostly good. But there's still..."

"Something," Gillian supplied because she understood it too. There was something there that was yet to work its self out.

Cal nodded "Yeah. But I can't put my finga on it."

"Me either."

His eyes widened slightly. "Yeah?"

Gillian nodded. "I know it's there but I can't place it exactly."

"Ok, good, I thought it was just me," and he really did seem very relieved.

"No," Gillian shook her head slightly. "It's not just you."

"So... where next? Where do we go and what do we do?"

Gillian thought for a moment. "Not sure."

"But we're gonna figa it out right?"

"Of course," she gave him a little frown of concern. "We always have. I have hope we always will."

"Promise?" Cal asked her softly.

"Promise," she repeated with a slight smile.

He nodded, then broke eye contact to tap the files. "All right then, walk me through it."


	64. Chapter 64

"Huh."

"What?" Cal turned his head from the file, interested.

"You're singing our song."

"It is?" He was surprised as he looked over at his wife. Or humming it, which is what he was really doing, as he read and Gillian made a quick compilation of notes beside him in bed. They were both sitting up, focussed on working but also both taking comfort in the quiet intimacy of merely being together. This was the second night in a row they had worked on this, the third night in a row that they had made love. Gillian hoped Cal would also stay over, making it two nights in a row. She hadn't asked him to move back in yet. It wasn't quite the right time. Not just yet.

"Yeah we danced to it on our first date."

"We did?" His eyebrows went up a little further. She had left that part out of the story. She had just said they went dancing.

"Yeah," Gillian shifted to bump his shoulder slightly in a companionable nudge. She didn't question him, didn't ask him if he remembered.

"We should go on a date," Cal suggested.

Gillian shifted her gaze to really look at him. Sometimes, he just got very serious and she was learning when to pay attention. "You reckon?"

He nodded solemnly. "Yeah I do."

"Because we're not having enough sex?" She smirked.

Cal grinned. "Well, I was actually thinkin' about time alone. Sans child."

"Ah," Gillian noted with a slight sigh. "Those moments tend to be limited."

"And then we usually just end up havin' sex."

Gillian smirked again and looked up to see Cal grinning. He reached over and took her hand, squeezing her fingers within his. "How's your babysittin' network?"

"Well if Kate takes him we usually have to return the favour."

Cal nodded. "And your Mum and Dad?"

"That has emotional baggage fall out."

"There's always Em."

"Yeah but I don't want to burden her."

"You'll have to explain that one to me."

"Well," Gillian shifted on the bed slightly, moving out the foot she was sitting on to let it get fresh blood. "She's in her mid twenties and I don't want her to have to worry about a four year old for twenty four hours. And with Lewis's mix of hearing issues and bed wetting issues, though I will concede they seem to have dried up, excuse the pun, still, it's a lot to ask."

Cal nodded. "All right. I undastand."

"So take your pick." She wasn't saying no to the idea of a date, despite the nervous shuffling of her stomach.

"Well at least with Kate's kids we would both have to deal with the ramifications."

Gillian gave a slight smile and leaned in to give him a brief kiss on the lips. "Smart man."

**PJ**

"Gill?"

"Mmm go away," she murmured against the pillow. They had spent far too much time last night being awake when she should have been sleeping. Case files, then more fooling around under the sheet. Gillian didn't have the heart to fend her husband off, not when he was being so cute, not when his hands went exploring. But she needed sleep because she was exhausted and she didn't get to nap in the afternoons like Cal did.

"It's time to get up," Cal gave her shoulder a squeeze.

She brought a hand up to fend his fingers away slowly. He barely moved. Damn. He gave her a gentle shake. "No," she groaned, turning her head into the pillow, aware that with every second she was becoming more and more aware. She tried to shut out the sun; why was it so bright? And why was Cal awake?

Hey!

Cal was there! She shifted abruptly into his chest, a small movement because he was still leaning over her. She heard the surprised 'oof' and felt his arm drop down over her back. She pressed her nose into his chest, just below his collar bone. The hand at her back started to rub up and down, his palm warm. "Sweetheart, if you don't get up now, then you'll have to forgo a showa."

"Mmh," Gillian responded. He smelt like him. No deodorant, or soap, or shampoo. And it smelt like home. Safe and warm and comforting. "I could get used to this."

"Vice-like hugs?"

"You being here when I wake up."

"I'm just glad you didn't snap my head off and eviscerate it for wakin' you."

Gillian gave a displeased groan. "Too many big words so early."

"It's not early darlin'," he shifted his hand to push against her shoulder, prying her away from him. "It's time to get up."

"Lewis?" Gillian asked, blinking against the light. Why was it so light? Because someone had already opened one of the curtains.

"Is up already. I sent him downstairs for breakfast."

"You're letting him get his own breakfast?"

"He can't get a bowl out of the cupboard and cereal from the cupboard?"

"He can. He can also miss, make a giant mess and leave it for someone else to clean up."

Cal sighed. "Fine. I'll go supavise. But you betta get up and be in the showa by the time I get back."

Gillian huffed at him, picking sleep out of her eyes. She was in the middle of the bed and Cal was laying on his side on an angle, like he had been last night, but dressed now, in jeans and a shirt; he could be the curtain culprit.

"Or we can stay in bed and I'll take Lewis to day care and leave you the mess downstairs."

Gillian narrowed her eyes at him. "What's wrong with you?"

Cal gave her a slight grin. "Where should I even start?" He ran his fingers along her chin. "Showa, go. Meet you there in ten minutes." He rolled quickly out of her reach before she could even think of a retort. She kind of liked the idea of having a shower with him. And if the glint in his eye was anything to go by...

When he was out of the room Gillian sighed heavily and climbed out of bed slowly. She was still stretching herself too thin, but at least now she could feed off Cal's energy to keep going. She headed for the toilet first and foremost and then turned the shower water on. It wasn't overly large, with the condensed space of the second floor, but was designed with two people in mind, which meant there were jets on the opposite wall, so when there was a companion to shower with, they didn't get cold, fighting for their share of the water. And when Gillian was alone in the shower, like she had mostly been for the last three months now, she used the extra jets to massage her body.

She stripped down and into the warm water, immediately closing her eyes as she was gently assaulted on two sides. Ahhh it felt heavenly. The perfect way to wake up. Gillian heard the shower door pop open gently and turned her head to look over her shoulder. Cal. He gave her an appraising up and down leer that had her shivering slightly. He better not be making promises he wasn't about to keep. She curled a finger at him and he grinned this time, disappearing briefly, only to reappear naked, and bullying his way inside the cubicle. He pressed up against her, wrapping his arms tightly over hers, pressing a kiss to her damp neck. "Lewis?" She asked warily.

"Is eatin' his breakfast at the table like a good boy. Crisis averted. Though I did come down in time to catch him usin' the drawers as a step ladda with the very full milk in both hands, no lid, as he tried to climb."

Gillian didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"So I figa," Cal lowered his voice and his hands to her hips. "We got about ten minutes, maybe longa if he takes it upon himself to watch TV afta he finishes eatin'."

Gillian pushed herself backwards into him, felt how hard his body was now with all that time working out, how soft he was with no response. Cal's right hand slipped lower, around the top of her thigh and she suppressed the need to cry out in delight. He hadn't even started yet. He played a good game. "The door?" Gillian struggled out.

"Shh," Cal responded, wrapping his left arm around her chest, under her breasts to hold her in place while his right hand felt the way.

"Door Cal!?"

"It's locked. Shhh," he told her again. "Don't think about that," he murmured in her ear, planting a kiss against her temple. "Think about me."

Putty in his hands. That's what she was. Absolute putty and she would swear to god that he was just doing it to show off. He had figured her out quickly; she was sure he didn't remember. She was aware of just the slightest hesitations in the beginning, the double checking of her face to make sure what he was doing was really 'doing it' for her. He didn't have much to worry about. There was little she didn't like, not when he was the one doing it to her.

Gillian felt her body twitch as he stirred her awake. She let out a groan that had him growling in return, but she could still feel that he had a once-in-a-twenty-four-hour limit. "Take your time," she moaned. Cal chuckled and if she didn't feel as though she was paralysed right now she might have moved a hand to strike him. As it was her left was pinned beneath his and her right, oh, it was hanging loosely at her side. She brought it up to his right wrist, the one that was in the perfect position to rub against her pubic bone while his fingers stroked, and clung on.

'_Think about me_.'

She could hear him breathing softly in her air, feel the concentration of his body, the determination in his hands. She hit the point where the tension was almost unbearable and let her body suddenly relax. Cal's arm tightened around her, taking more of her weight and the swirling pleasure he was orchestrating within her was suddenly louder than the water streaming over their bodies.

"Good girl," Cal murmured against her temple. Gillian quivered. "Let me make you feel fantastic." She squirmed again, letting her mouth drop open to gasp for air, her grip tightening. "Gill? Do you like it when I talk to you?" She nodded her head vigorously. "Why didn't you tell me that?" He mused softly.

"Because," came her choked reply.

"Because?" Cal prompted. Gillian shook her head roughly, bumping in to him. "You wanted me to figa it out?" She nodded. Yes. Just like last time. She didn't want to have to tell him everything from now on. She wanted him to figure some of it out. Otherwise she would have all the power and he would be co-dependent on her. Maybe that was the 'thing' between them. Too bad she could barely talk right now.

"Gillian?"

"Uh," she breathed.

"You have any idea how hot this is right now?"

She nodded.

"Seriously, sexiest mornin' I can rememba in a long time."

She gave a slight laugh at his facetious tone.

He kissed her neck. "Mmm god you're so sexy."

Gillian arched her head back so it was leaning on his shoulder. He nibbled at her jaw and she turned her head to meet his kiss. She wasn't sure what happened next, but with the momentum of her turning her head he spun her further, letting her go, only to push her against the shower wall gently, trailing kisses down her throat, her chest, attention on each breast, but quickly, moving to kneel in front of her, lifting a leg over the back of his shoulder carefully. Gillian's hand shot up to hold onto the shower head so she shouldn't slip as he pressed his mouth against her and she immediately slammed her hips into his head. He withdrew in delighted surprise, a quick laugh in his eyes before pushing her hips back, holding her in place this time as he teased her with his tongue.

"Oh fuck Cal!" Gillian cried to the ceiling. Pleasure shot up her spin to crackle over her skull. Her left hand threaded through his damp strands, holding him in place lightly, her hips encouraging him with every stroke and twist his tongue made. "Oh," she whimpered again, feeling her toes curl, her cheeks flame. So close and now she was desperate for the sharp edge of finality. She reached for it, gulping back air and water. "Now," she begged her husband and he obliged. Her head struck the back of the shower sharply, the shocked pain of it dulled by the ricocheting mouth of her partner; he continued to tease and suck lightly until she stopped quivering and took in the breath she had been holding off. She could feel her blood trembling in her veins as she sank to the floor within his arms. He immediately kissed her neck, her cheek, the side of her head. "You all right?" He asked lightly, a hint of surprise in his tone.

"Uh huh," Gillian nodded her head. Her right leg was extended so her foot was touching the glass on the opposite wall. Her left leg was bent between them and her arms were resting over his as he held her firmly. Strongly. God it felt amazing to be held so resolutely by him again.

"Literally knocked you off your feet," Cal chuckled.

"You're a smug bastard sometimes."

"I know," he laughed again. He kissed her softly. "Now if I leave, are you gonna be able to get up and get goin'?"

"I don't think so."

Cal chuckled again. "Come on," he positioned to get to his feet, his hands on her upper arms, encouraging her to get to her feet too. When she was standing he gave her a long deep kiss that left her breathless all over again.

She clung on to him, arms around his shoulders. "Thank you."

"You're welcome luv."

Gillian's heart fluttered. Was that the first time he had called her that since he woke up? It felt like it. She held him tighter, then let him go. Amusement was all over his face and she gripped his bottom lip between her thumb and finger, giving it a squeeze. "Don't get too cocky."

He looked down briefly. "That's half the problem luv, othawise I would have woken you up for a shag." He said it lightly, it was meant to be a joke, but it made Gillian feel sad. Things would go great and then there would be little reminders, as if she weren't allowed to forget just yet. "Hey," Cal pulled her closer again. "Where'd you go?"

Gillian sighed. "Nowhere."

"Lie-a, lie-a," Cal sing-songed. He watched her for those tell tale signs that would confirm he had just referenced something from the past and when he got confirmation in the slight quiver of her eyebrows he reached for the shampoo. He handed it to her, wordlessly reaching for the soap, as she flipped open the lid with her thumb and proceeded to wash her hair.

From there they fell into what seemed to be a new routine. Cal got out of the shower before her, dried off while discussing what he should put in Lewis's lunch, because he still needed the prompts and he couldn't be bothered going to find his notebook. Besides, it meant they were talking and talking, about anything, was a good thing. That was what kept them moving forward, fluid. Then he dressed in the bedroom and headed downstairs. Lewis was indeed watching TV now. The mess of his breakfast bowl was still at the table, puddles and islands of milk and cheerios. Cal crossed the room and turned the television off.

"Aw!" Lewis complained.

"Time to get dressed," Cal told him.

Lewis shook his head at Cal. Cal nodded and stepped forward to pick Lewis up by the arm, to get him going, but Lewis screeched at him and dived over the back of the couch to land with a thud on the carpet. As Cal started to head around the couch the boy got up and ran from the room. Cal could hear him bang his way upstairs. First things first, coffee, and then he would go after him. Cal found his notebook on the breakfast bar, had no recollection of putting it there, but tucked it into the back of his jeans pocket.

Cal poured coffee, one for him, one for Gillian and put toast in the machine to at least make a start after chasing up his wife and his son. He headed upstairs, tapping the master bedroom door open with Gillian's coffee mug. She was standing at her dresser fastening the buttons of her blouse, skirt already on, make-up done. She gave him a smile as he came in. He returned it, setting her coffee on the edge of the furniture on her side of the room, next to the walk in closet. "Lewis?" She queried.

"In his room. Probably playin' and not gettin' dressed like I asked him," Cal responded.

"I heard him thump by."

"What's sign for 'get dressed'?"

Gillian looked a little surprised and Cal told himself not to be disheartened by the fact that he had rarely asked her how to sign, that he had organised a teacher and had forgotten to tell her so, yet, and that still, there was just so much that slipped through his mind. So much for being able to cut back on the notebook.

"I usually sign 'clothes'," Gillian responded, showing him.

Cal nodded. "Hey uh, before I forget. Do you rememba me eva tellin' you about Kent?"

"Sure, Kent," she started easily and then abruptly stopped. "Do you remember Kent?"

"No. When I went to see George for my check-up Kent was there and he came ova to talk to me."

"How is he?" Gillian finished with her shirt, reached for her coffee, taking a small sip. She put it back down to tuck herself in.

"He's fine I guess." And then he clicked. "In for an annual check-up like me." Kent was also in remission, Cal deduced.

"That's really great," Gillian fastened her skirt at the side.

"Yeah," Cal agreed. It was, actually, now that he thought about it. The poor guy. He would have been far too young to have to deal with that kind of mortality. "Anyway. I asked him to teach me how to sign."

Gillian turned to face him slowly and he could see the hurt in her eyes and kicked himself. Hard. He crossed the room to where she was standing. "Sorry. It's just that, I know you're busy and he's advanced and he recognised me and I felt badly for sittin' there sayin' 'I don't know who you are' cos he had this look on his face, so excited to see me, like we were friends."

Gillian brought a hand up to his arm to stop him. "It's ok."

"Well it's not cos you're hurt. I can see it."

Her fingers tightened around his flesh. "Really, Cal, it's fine. Kent would love to spend the time with you. You guys had a connection when you were in the hospital, even though it was brief. You really made those few days so much better for him."

Cal nodded. He had figured something along those lines. "But in the meantime, I've done what to step in it?"

"Nothing," Gillian insisted. "I just, you and I learnt to sign together. We spent hours, weeks, months learning, going to classes and reading those books and patiently teaching Lewis together." She shrugged and Cal felt worse. He could see how hard she was trying not to get emotional about it.

Together.

"It's not fair is it?" Cal noted gently.

"No," Gillian shook her head. "It's not. But I can't change it."

"I wish I could."

"I wish for that too," she told him gently. "But it's not going to happen. So let's not dwell on it ok?" She went to turn away from him.

"Gill, I'm sorry."  
>"Cal," she turned back. She gave a little sigh and leaned in for a hug. "I think it's a great idea you asked Kent to help you. Maybe you could take Lewis with you a few times. A different influence would be great for him; teach him a few things too."<p>

Cal nodded against her shoulder, still feeling terrible. Gillian's hands came up to rub his back. She pulled him away slightly to look him in the face. "Can you do me a favour and get our son ready for the day? I'm running late."

Cal nodded again. "There's bread in the toaster for you."

"Thanks. But you'll probably get to it first. I still have to straighten my hair."

"I liked it short." He froze. "Ooops. That was tactless."

"You don't like my hair now?" She queried lightly.

"No I do and all but I liked it short. Bit of a shock to wake up to, it suddenly doubled in length."

"Huh," Gillian nodded slowly. She turned to the dresser again.

"Gill?"

"Yes?" She glanced up at him in the mirror and he moved so he could look her in the eye.

"I think I should make more effort to talk to you about stuff before just goin' ahead and doin' it." They were a _partnership_ after all.

Gillian watched him for a moment and he could see the confirmation on her face without her having to respond. It was the lack of an immediate 'no' or a 'you don't have to do that', no frown or shake of her head. That was her way of saying 'yes please do that' without wanting to beg him. Cal nodded. "Now I'll go sort out _your_ son." He stepped away and headed for the door.

"Your son," she shot back.


	65. Chapter 65

"Cal! Oh my god, stop it!"

"Lunch Gillian."

"I," her brain clouded over as he grazed his teeth over her neck. "Don't."

"Yeah, yeah," he responded, bringing his hips against hers. "I know."

Gillian didn't even dwell on it, that little snippet of him remembering something that was theirs. How many times had she told him not to leave marks on her skin where people could see? Far too many. Should she find it interesting that that happened to have slipped through the memory barrier in his brain? Probably, but right now, she was having a hard time remembering why she had to leave the house.

"Lunch," Cal insisted. "Have lunch with me."

"Ok," she breathed, her fingers loosening their hold on his shoulder.

Cal slipped his nose beneath her shirt to her flushed skin, sucking at a point just above her breast, where the flesh started to turn softer. He could feel Gillian's increased breathing rate in the way her chest heaved, the way air panted down on his ear. Finally, she shoved him away and he stumbled back, before regaining his footing. She shot him a dark expression, exacerbated by the blackening of her pupils. He grinned. Pleased with himself. "Don't be late," he warned.

Gillian straightened up, pushing away from the wall, pulling the hem of her shirt back into place. In the garage, they could hear Lewis finally slam his door shut. "I have to go," she told him and it sounded like a complaint.

"So leave," he indicated the internal garage door. "No one's stoppin' you."

Gillian stepped forward and slapped at his shoulder, huffing, but almost laughing and Cal's grin got wider. She had been trying to leave before he had caught her wrist, pressed her against the wall, and ravished her. But she had no comeback, because she loved that he had. She loved that he was there in the morning when she woke up and followed her into the shower, even if it was merely because he wouldn't let her out of his sight, not until she left the house. He made her breakfast and Lewis's lunch, making sure the four year old was ready for his time at the day care centre before Cal went down to pick him up in the afternoon. She hardly knew what they got up to in the afternoon but when she got home again, Lewis was all grins and dry underwear and psychologically balanced drawings again.

Cal didn't live there, not yet, but he was around so often it almost felt like he did. It almost felt like normal. But not yet. There was one more thing they had to take care of before they could go back to normal.

"Hey," Cal's hand came to her cheek, stopping her once more with just his touch. "You all right?"

Gillian nodded her head. "Of course."

"Busy day planned?"

She gave a slight purposeful shrug. "You know, work, the usual, and I have a doctor's appointment and then..."

"What for?" Cal cut her off suddenly concerned.

"Just a routine check up."

"What for?" He narrowed his eyes slightly.

"Mum!" Lewis yelled from his car seat.

They both ignored him.

"Uh insurance for the Lightman Group and for other personal womanly reasons."

"Oh," he relaxed again. "All right. I'll see you for lunch and you can fill me in yeah?"

"Sure," Gillian agreed. "I'll tell you all about it." She found the strength to step away from him, feeling his hand reaching out to brush hers slightly. She gave him a glance over her shoulder before disappearing into the garage. Lewis was sitting in his seat, straining forward to see where she was.

"Go! Go!" He called through the closed door.

"I'm here," Gillian told him. "Let's go," she agreed.

**PJ**

Gillian dropped Lewis at day care then went to her doctor's appointment. It really was routine. Her GP just wanted to check in with her concerning her health and menopausal status. She talked about Cal a little, the extra stress she had been under but asserted that it was easing off now; things were getting better. But she was tired and so she was sent for a blood test, to check her hormone levels. From there the doctor might be able to prescribe her something. After that, it was work.

For the rest of the morning she was in the lab, going over video footage with Eli. It had been so long since she had done something so... normal. It had been so long since she could actually relax at work, actually not have to worry, stress herself out, about something, too many things. She got a text alert from Cal just after midday: **IM W8N.** **POR2G**

POR2G? What could that possibly mean? Gillian mused as she excused herself, phone in hand, to head back to her office. Maybe he meant to type ports? Or... she stopped by her desk to scroll absently through her phone's directory. No, she had no idea. She dialled their home number. It rang for a while before Cal answered.

"What does POR two G mean?" She spelled out the letters individually. She realised it must stand for something. Please, something, right, two, something... Pourtoogy... nope, no idea.

"Tell me you're callin' me from the car," Cal interjected with a groan. "Though I can't hear traffic."

"I'm in my office. What does it mean?"

"Why don't you come home and find out?"

"Why do you always answer my question with a question?"

"Why don't you come home and also find that out?" Cal's tone teased.

Gillian gave the windows behind her desk a smirk. "Can you wait another hour?"

"Are you kiddin' me?"

"What if I wasn't?"

Cal chuckled. "How about if you came home and found I wasn't even here cos I got bored waitin'?"

"Are you _kidding_ _me_!?"

Cal chuckled again. "How long are you gonna be?"

"What is fifteen minutes?"

"Will you be offended if I hang up now?"

"Was that rhetorical?"

"You know I love you right?"

Gillian's smile slowly faded and it seemed the world suddenly got quiet. "You realise I haven't gotten over hearing that?"

"Why do you think I tell you?"

"Do you know that I love you?"

"Did you start that rume-a?"

And the smile was back. This game was ridiculous! But also impressive, because he was keeping up. She had expected him to falter about two minutes ago. "Can't prove that I did can you?" She grabbed her purse and started heading for the door. Quickly. Because she certainly didn't want anyone to overhear this bizarre but amusing conversation. Especially not if they were an employee of any kind. "Cal, you know you're completely ridiculous right?"

"Isn't it a job requirement?"

"What kind of job?" Perfect! Now it will sound like she was talking about work. She mouthed 'lunch' to Heidi on the desk as she went by. The other woman nodded. Gillian turned down the length of the corridor towards the exit, walking quickly to escape. She realised the phone had gone silent. "Cal?"

"How long were you gonna be?" He whined.

"You realise you're changing the subject?"

"Who knew this game had no end in sight?"

"Shall I end it?" Gillian queried, reaching the entrance and pushing against the door.

"Was that the door?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Gillian lowered her voice and fished for her sunglasses in her purse. September sun. The last days of summer. She was lucky it was dragging out. She felt like she had missed most of it.

"What is, observin' the no cell phones while drivin' law? P.O.R.2.G. Love you," and he made kissy noises down the line before cutting it off.

Gillian smiled to herself again, putting her phone in her bag and heading for her car. She remote unlocked it and slid behind the wheel, setting her bag onto the passenger's seat. Her heart felt lighter, her stomach floating with pleasant anticipation. So Gillian headed home for what was almost certainly sex with her husband in the middle of the day. P.O.R. Two. G. What was she missing?

**PJ**

Gillian waited impatiently for the garage door to go up, tapping her forefinger on the wheel of her car. She left her purse and phone and hurried inside. "Cal?" She yelled. He wouldn't be downstairs would he? No response. So she headed up the stairs.

"Gill?"

"Coming!" She called out as she neared the top of the stairs.

"I hope so!"

Gillian laughed as she reached the bedroom door and pushed it open. Cal was in bed, her side of the bed, the sly bastard, shirtless and by the look of it, pantless. Oh. She suddenly clicked. POR2G. Pants off, ready to go. She gave him a smile as she entered; she had started unbuttoning her shirt as she reached the landing.

"Aw now you're doin' the best part," Cal complained with a pout, watching her avidly.

Gillian slipped out of her heels. "I don't have time for you teasing." Cal arched an eyebrow at her. "I only get half an hour for lunch."

"Geeze," Cal grumped as she came nearer. He held out his arms for her, helping her settle over his waist. "You should talk to your boss about that. Half an hour is a complete..."

She cut him off with a kiss. 


	66. Chapter 66

"Look at all these freckles," Cal kissed along her shoulder; hot and successive.

"Mmm," Gillian responded sleepily.

"Are you awake?" Cal asked lightly.

"Sort of," Gillian responded. "I'm just really relaxed," and her tone took on that slow and sexy depth that would have had Cal reaching for her again.

Cal kissed down her arm and into the crook of her elbow where a bruise had bloomed from her blood test yesterday. No day time booty calls today, he wasn't really up for much more than once in a twenty four hour time frame and while a quick shag during her lunch break was extremely naughty and fun, it meant there was no time to cuddle, and she berated him for grabbing at her shirt; she had to wear it back to the office, could hardly go back in something different. People would talk; she would be embarrassed. And that was just slightly more of a kill joy than he thought it was going to be.

"I want to show you somethin'," Cal tried to tempt her into a more wakeful state.

"I've already seen it," Gillian retorted.

"Not that," Cal admonished. "Get your mind out of the gutta."

"You put it there."

He grinned to himself. She was quick. "You have to roll ova for this though," Cal went back to enticing her. She was facing the windows, on her side, completely naked beneath the sheet, which draped over her body entirely, giving him a full view of everything of hers. And to top it off, she had a bare shoulder exposed, with all those freckles, and the tantalising curve of her neck. So damn beautiful.

"Morning?"

"No," Cal responded gently. "Now. It's important."

She gave a slight sigh but she did turn over to face him, blinking against the light of his lamp. She resettled on her other side, expectant, the sheet still hugged against her body. Cal blatantly checked her out and then reached for his bedside table. He came back with his notebook. He noted the surprise on Gillian's face. He was so very good at doing the unexpected with her. Was that sad? It was wasn't it? He didn't surprise her in a good way. It wasn't a 'hey our lives are getting predicable so here's something to throw you off' it was more a case of him not behaving how she thought he would because she had how many years of marriage in which to form a baseline?

Cal lowered himself carefully to the pillow, right by her head, so her forehead was against his hair, their faces close, so they could both see as he opened up the notebook to the first things he had written down, about her and about waking up all of a sudden.

"You're going to let me see?" She asked him softly.

"Yes."

"Now?"

"Yes now," Cal confirmed. "I am tryin' Gill."

"I know," she responded simply.

He didn't say it and he wasn't sure she heard it in the silence, but what he wanted to add was 'you need to try too.' Because she was still closed off to him in little ways; those moments where she was too quiet. He understood why, with the hurt that was still so raw for her, in every little way she was reminded that he had forgotten. It wasn't that she was punishing him, nor was she blaming him, but she was hurting. He could see it, more now that he knew what he was seeing. But it was also becoming clearer to him that they weren't going to be able to move forward without her also doing her bit. So maybe she hadn't figured it out yet. That was ok. But soon, they were going to have to talk about it, or let it drive a wedge between them.

So Cal lay himself down on the line again. He took her through his notebook, the progression of confusion and questions to information gathering and finding answers. As they read together, occasionally either of them pointing out something interesting, there was a question Cal had that he hadn't found an answer for and Gillian filled in the blank. Mostly it was things like where had they gone on their honeymoon? And how had he proposed? For Cal, it felt a bit like baring his soul; Wu would be proud. For Gillian, it was more insight into exactly what he was going through, especially those first weeks he was getting used to the idea that they were married and he had a son. The confusion was clear; he had been more than overwhelmed. But all of that she knew. What she found interesting were the conclusions he came to, especially when they hit the point in the little book that he had started seeing a therapist.

Good lord he was trying but then, so was she, not to let it bother her, his memory loss. But it was and she couldn't stop it, no matter how hard she firstly tried to ignore it, then tried to simply let it wash over her. Perhaps she should be seeing a therapist too. Perhaps she should call Casey back a little more promptly and actually really talk to her. What she wanted though, was to be able to talk to Cal. And she had no idea what was stopping her. Only that she came up against this wall and was frustrated in trying to find a way over it.

"Thank you for sharing that with me," Gillian hugged Cal's arm. His hand rested on her belly. The other reached out to put his notebook back on the bedside table.

"You're welcome."

"I'm not sharing with you."

Cal carried on as if she had not said something completely important right now. It was an observation, not a warning. He turned his head slightly but was too close to be able to see her eyes. So he settled his head and studied the wall opposite their bed; the walk in wardrobe in a corner of dead space where the house curved around to meet the sun.

"I can't help it," she pressed on.

"It seems a little redundant," Cal attempted to help her out. "You know, cos you shouldn't have to open up again when you already have. It's old news for you that you have to go ova again for my benefit."

"Yes," she agreed. "That's very..."

"I've been thinkin' about it," Cal explained.

Gillian shifted to press her lips against his cheek. "Very well put. It does feel like that. I'm not even sure what I should be opening up to you about because... like you said, I already have. We both have. But you know what needs to be said because you're discovering it over again and I'm reduced to reacting to you."

Cal nodded, his fingers brushed against her skin. "This is a very bizarre situation."

"Hm," Gillian agreed.

"I like that we keep pushin' to get an answa?"

"To find a solution," Gillian corrected gently.

"Yes, a solution. Togetha though. I like that. That it's not just one sided."

"That I'm not dumping this at your feet?"

"Yes."

They were silent for a moment. Gillian shifted her hand to lace through his fingers and give them a squeeze.

"Tell me how you feel."

"I've told you," Gillian retorted gently.

"Yeah," Cal agreed. And that wasn't the problem. It wasn't as if he didn't know and she didn't know. It was just... something else. "I want to come back to work."

"Are you allowed?"

"Didn't realise I had to get permission to go back to my own business."

"I meant, has Doctor Rockwell said it was ok?"

"I get a bit sick of always havin' to answa to someone else."

"He only has your best interests at heart."

"He's just one man with an opinion and a bit of expertise. Hangin' out in my office watchin' some video and readin' case files isn't gonna give me a brain aneurysm."

"You shouldn't really joke like that; it scares me. But," she added quickly. "I think coming back to work would actually be a good thing. So you're not just sitting around the house all day."

Cal turned his head this time to actually see her, surprised, pleasantly, that she was taking his side. He had to move his head back along the pillow so he didn't smack his nose into her and so he could see without going cross eyed.

"Don't be so shocked," Gillian admonished him lightly. "I am actually on your side."

"Yeah but I know you, you're also cautious."

"Protective you mean?"

"Yes but mostly what I meant in this instance is that you err on the side of caution."

"What's going to happen to you at the office?" Gillian shot back.

"Oh wait! I get it," Cal suddenly clicked. "You can keep an eye on me there." He gave her a grin, to show he was teasing and Gillian broke into a light laugh.

"Shut up you." She paused. "And yes, I can."

Cal laughed this time. He turned over in bed completely to wrap her up in a hug. "Perhaps I just miss spendin' all day spyin' on you through the security cameras."

"Perv," Gillian murmured into his shoulder. She felt her husband shake slightly as he chuckled. How could it go from this easy being around each other to strange and awkward a beat later? "I think getting back to normalcy will be a good thing."

"Monday then," Cal suggested.

"Kay," Gillian agreed.

"We need to find our way huh?"

"Yes."

"Any idea on how we do that?"

"None."

"Wanna come to therapy with me?"

"If you think it will help."

"That sounded rather snide."

"I didn't intend it that way," Gillian pulled back to look him in the eye. The light made his pale blues seem darker. "I meant, if you think it will help, then I'll come."

"You're the shrink luv. What do you think?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "What I want is to be able to figure this out together."

"Not at therapy?"

"You remember before we were together?"  
>"Funnily enough, yes I do."<p>

"We found a way to work together first. Then, as the years went by, we figured out how to be in business together, then a relationship, then marriage."

"With you up until the relationship part."

"My point is, we figured it out together, on our own. That's what made us special, strong, magic."

"Magic," Cal repeated. They were silent for a moment. Gillian watching him, Cal watching the curtains ruffle in a slight breeze from the open window. "It will be more magic if we fly solo huh?'

"Yes. But I will concede, maybe we can't."

"I'd like to try," Cal turned back to her with a determined gaze. "And if that fails, then we can try something else right?"

Gillian nodded.

"We're not gonna give up right?"

"Absolutely not."

"Good."

There was another pause. "You know," Gillian started tentatively. Cal looked over at her again, his expression neutral, attentive but neutral. "I think we should do something together."

"Somethin?" Cal's eyebrows went up, that naughty glint hit his eyes.

Gillian smiled slightly, amused, not surprised that his mind immediately went sexual. "I was thinking more like something we could do together that would be like a fresh start."

Cal gave her a little frown.

"You know, like, putting us back on an equal footing. Because right now you're playing catch up and I'm the keeper of all the information."

Cal nodded. "That's very true. And we don't talk about the past because you know I like to figa things out on my own."

Gillian nodded. "There is that."

"So? Somethin' like what?"

Gillian gave a shrug. "That's as far as I got with the idea. It just came to me."

"Hmm," Cal mused. He looked around the room as if the answer were waving its arms and jumping up and down to get attention. "A new balance. Like a hobby?"

"A hobby," Gillian mused. "Sure."

"A project. Somethin' to work on togetha," his voice got more confident as he spoke. He looked over at her again.

"I love watching your mind work."

Cal gave her a slight smile. "You're just tryin' to get me into bed."

"Ooop," Gillian looked down at their naked bodies, his torso exposed above the line of the sheet. "Already happened."

Cal grinned. At least she wasn't sexually shy. Gillian leaned up to kiss his cheek and she gave a little contented sigh as she settled her head against his shoulder, lacing her fingers through his firmly, pressing against his wedding ring. They were right there on the edge of it, he could feel it, she could feel it, but there was still that something. And Cal suspected she was right, it was that they weren't on equal footing, because he was home most of the day and she was working. Way back, when they had first met, they had spent so much time together working on little projects, cases or profiles which had evolved into starting their business. And yes, they had fought, sometimes to the point of her leaving, mostly bickering, but they had always moved forward. There had always been an understanding. Now they were married and they spent less time with each other than when they weren't. They definitely needed some alone time and they definitely needed to find their balance again. And with firm promises in his mind to put that into action first thing tomorrow, Cal fell asleep, warm and content, with his naked wife pressed up against his side.


	67. Chapter 67

"I talked with Gillian last night."

Wu nodded he understood. He was still settling in his chair. Cal waited for him to open up his notebook and click the ball point of the pen into place, ready to begin.

"About how things are between us at the moment."

"And how did that go?"

"Fine. It's not like she doesn't listen to me, it's not like she's not receptive."

Wu nodded again that he understood. "But?" He prompted.

Cal took a second to think. "It's hard to explain."

"There's residual hurt and resentment."

"All right," Cal agreed because that sounded good.

"And it will take time for her to get over that."

"What if she neva does?"

Wu was silent for a moment and Cal could hear a little voice in the back of his head saying '_it'll be ova, it'll be ova then'_.

"You said you were talking though and that Gillian was being receptive. Do you feel as though she is in some way, resisting, or sabotaging your relationship?"

"Resistin' yeah," Cal confirmed with a short nod. "But not sabotaging. She wants us to be all right again just as much as I do. Probably more, considerin' she knows how good it can be and I don't. But yeah, there's somethin' in her that I think is still clingin' on to the past."

"Cal, you've made a lot of leaps forward in your progress in the last month, but how much spare time do you think Gillian has had to work on this?"

Ok well that was a little harsh, all right, no it wasn't. It was a very fair point. "You're gonna tell me to be patient, to sit back and let it happen yeah?"

Wu nodded. "Yes I would tell you that. And I would also add that she's under a lot of pressure, just like you were, to adjust to sudden changes. Remember, she's been dealing with everything since you had the accident. It's a lot to suddenly become a single parent, and the sole bread winner of a family, as well as the CEO of your company."

"Feelin' worse thanks," Cal commented dryly.

"I'm just trying to get you to understand where she's coming from."

"So you're suggesting that perhaps I'm putting pressure on her now?" He looked up to watch the psychologists face.

"Perhaps," Wu conceded. "I think you're both putting pressure on making your relationship into something that it clearly isn't right now. I'm saying, just don't force it."

"Hm," Cal thought for a moment.

"How do you feel about it?"

"Confused and frustrated sometimes. Sometimes there are these moments that are just so easy and otha times it's clear that it's strained."

"Frustrated with Gillian?"

"No with how weird it can be sometimes."

"So you're not resentful towards Gillian?"

Cal suddenly clicked. "No," he looked the other man in the eye. "I don't resent Gillian. Not even for the memories she has that I don't. I guess..." the idea teased him and he stopped talking for a second to let it find its way out. "I want to start ova."

"With Gillian?"

"Yes. We were talkin' last night about doin' somethin' togetha, you know, spend time togetha, that's not family driven."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Not really sure," Cal mused aloud. When he thought about it, his brain resisted him.

"Like?" Wu prompted.

"I can't think of anythin'. And how do I even know we haven't already done it?"

"You can ask Gillian."

"I can," Cal agreed. "And that's easy and all that but it's not special is it?"

"Why don't you just go ahead and do something anyway? Surprise her. I doubt it matters to her if history is repeating. It's that you took the initiative."

"Huh," Cal breathed. "I think that would actually work. She's a romantic at heart."

"Don't try too hard," Wu instructed. "Don't over think it. Let it flow from the heart."

Cal would have laughed at him for sure if he had been in a position of strength. If he had been his usual cocky self he would have mocked. But actually, it sounded like pretty good advice.

**PJ**

"Hi, Kate?"

"Yeah. Cal?"

"Yeah it's Cal," he confirmed. "I was wonderin' if you'd do me a fave-a?"

"Well it depends on what it is."

"I need to wine and dine Gillian. Take her out, romantic dinna, somethin'. I don't know," he almost winced. The idea was in the back of his mind. It hadn't come to fruition yet.

"Oh ok. You need a babysitter?"

"Yes please."

"When?"

"Is tonight too short notice?"

"Oh."

"That's ok if," Cal started in response to her abrupt answer.

"No, tonight's fine. It's totally fine. We love to have Lewis over."

"Great," Cal enthused. "Now, one otha thing. Any ideas on what Gillian would want to do?"

"Wouldn't you know that better than me?"

"Yeah but you're her girlfriend and she would talk to you about these kinds of things."

"Actually, Gillian doesn't really talk about you guys' private life."

'_Who does she talk to then_?' Cal thought to himself. She can't talk to him about everything, could she?

"Need me to pick Lewis up from day care this afternoon when I go on the school run?"

"That would be fantastic," Cal was appreciative. He thanked his sister-in-law again and she laughed it off, telling him he owed her. Now for Gillian. She was at work. So he was going to have to surprise her when she got home. Which meant... flowers, most definitely, because, well, he didn't think he had ever bought her flowers and something else. Special. What was special to them? Of course he didn't know so what had Gillian said? Make new memories? Fine, he could do that. He was going to have to research but he was, to borrow from Lewis, determinated!

**PJ**

When Gillian got home the house was quiet and her first thought was that Cal had taken Lewis out somewhere. She checked her phone for messages but there were none and as she got closer to the kitchen, where they almost always hung out, there was only more silence. The TV was off. There was no dinner on the stove. Gillian put her purse down a little perturbed. Should she be worried? And then she saw Cal, standing outside, in what looked like a suit? She got closer and he turned. He was holding a white lily.

"Are you wearing a suit?" Gillian asked him surprised. He was. White shirt, dark suit, it looked fantastic on him. Especially now that he filled it out just that little bit better.

He held out the flower to her wordlessly. She stepped forward to take it, a little frown marring her features. Cal stepped into her, wrapping his hand around hers as it took the stem from him. He leaned in close to her, pressing a sweet kiss to her cheek. Gillian felt her stomach flutter. "Wha?" She looked over at him, the same height in her heels.

"Lily," Cal started softly and it struck her hard. "All of this is goin' on in the middle of..."

Gillian's gaze dropped to their feet. She didn't know what to say. She felt Cal's fingers brush against the cheek he had just kissed. "I rememba-ed."

Gillian looked up at him again, but his face was apologetic. "I mean, that I had to look it up, but she was born in August right? And..." He didn't finish it, but they were also approaching the second anniversary of her death.

Gillian nodded abruptly, a lump in her throat. "Where's Lewis?"

"He's with his cousins. You and I," he took her hand, the flower free hand, and pulled her towards the grass gently. "Are havin' that date we were talkin' about." He walked backwards towards a rug spread out on the lawn. As Gillian got closer she could see cushions, wine, feta cheese, bread, apples, cherry tomatoes, pastrami, marshmallows, chocolate buttons, potato salad, apple juice... She could feel Cal's gaze on her and she looked over at him amazed.

He raised his eyebrows in a smile. "Ah ha! Finally impressed you."

Gillian's smile became slightly embarrassed. "I know I haven't."

"Shh," he stopped her, pulling her in close against her chest. "We're startin' ova."

"We are?" She asked warily.

"We are," he nodded. "Cos I think that's the only way to do this properly. To just let everythin' go and start ova. What do you think?"

"I think I would be willing to try anything."

Cal gave her a slight smile. "Eat," he pointed to the ground and sat, pulling his wife down gently with him.

"Including going to see a therapist with you Cal. If that's what it takes."

"Let's not worry about it tonight ok? Just..." he gestured around him. "Enjoy this. And a Lewis free evenin'."

Gillian smiled and he grinned right on back. He offered to pour her some wine but Gillian shook her head. "Apple juice it is," Cal decided. He poured, Gillian started picking. They both enjoyed the late evening sun. And eventually they started talking. About Lily but mostly about how the pastrami tasted briny and the end of summer was beautiful despite losing the daylight hours. How Cal was going to see Kent after school next Tuesday for his first lesson (to which Gillian was actually enthusiastic about now she'd had a chance to let it sink in). How Lewis had brought home some wooden creature he had made during 'woodwork'. Cal made Gillian laugh and he had fleeting thoughts about her finally letting those walls down, about finally letting him in. He really wasn't so bad once she got to know him was he? But he pushed it aside because the point of all of this was to start over. No dwelling on the accident; that was what was dragging them down.

When it got cooler they headed inside, carrying their picnic with them. Gillian found a thin vase for the lily and set it on the breakfast bar. Cal set the dishwasher to run. Gillian smoothed her fingers around the curl of the petal, gentle enough so it wouldn't bruise. Cal wanted to say something about it, about Lily, but he found it hard. He didn't know how to broach the subject, what to say.

"Have you been thinkin' about her a bit?" Had to start somewhere right?

"Yeah," Gillian admitted.

"She would have been two?"

"Yeah," Gillian agreed looking over at him. "Hard to believe."

Cal nodded. "Hard to believe we'd have one let alone two."

Gillian gave him a slight smile. "Yeah." She let her hand drop from the flower. "Thank you. It's beautiful."

"Well I might be on a bit of a delay, but her birthday should be celebrated."

Gillian nodded. "Yeah it should."

"You and Lewis didn't do somethin'?"

"No."

Cal moved around the bench to stand beside her. He turned her gently to face him and put his arms around her. "Bearin' the burden alone huh?"

"Hm," she half agreed, her head turned so her lips tickled the side of his neck. She sighed.

"You're not alone Gill."

"Thank you."


	68. Chapter 68

Cal let them sway slightly. Humming their song, feeling a strong sense of nostalgia he couldn't place; it was clear they had done this before...

"You look great in a suit."

"I have been told that," he responded lightly.

"Do you think we'll get used to you not remembering?"

"Yes I do. Just like we got used to havin' a kid and we got used to bein' married and we got used to..." He was out of examples.

"We got used to it being easy."

"Mm hmm," Cal agreed.

"Come upstairs, I want to show you something."

"Is it rude?"

Gillian laughed as she pulled away from him, her eyes shining within her smile. She tugged on his hand as she stepped away. "No it's not rude."

"I'll just have to use my imagination then."

She laughed again, amused, and kept walking, kicking off her shoes at the bottom and pulling him up the stairs behind her. "If you play it right for the rest of the evening you might not even need that."

"Aye, aye," Cal responded. "Sounds delightful."

Gillian turned at the top of the stairs, standing that extra two thirds of a foot above him. She placed her hands on both sides of his head and leaned down to give him a kiss. Cal wrapped his arms around her waist, holding on firmly. "Mmm you taste like chocolate," Gillian hummed.

"You're welcome," Cal shot back quickly. He delighted in the way her eyes sparkled with relaxed amusement. Finally. His chest eased and he hadn't even realised it had been tight. In fact, it must have been that way for a long time, it felt like an everyday part of him was now slipping away. But he was thankful to see it go. In that moment, standing at the top of their stairs, it felt like he had come home. Gillian gave him another quick kiss and stepped away again. Cal made sure to capture her hand as they walked forward into their bedroom but Gillian didn't let go as she moved to her dresser drawers and opened the second one down. She did let go to burrow beneath t-shirts and tank tops until she produced a deep green, leather bound notebook, about the size of one of her paperback novels. Curiosity flared in Cal but he waited because he could suddenly see she was nervous. She worked her lip and she seemed to hesitate before turning to him. She held it out to him with both hands. "What's this?" He asked gently, moving slowly to take it.

"You showed me yours, I want to show you mine."

"Now that was rude," Cal raised an eyebrow at her slightly.

Gillian gave a smile, genuine, but less mirthful than before. "I wrote down how I was feeling, coping... like a diary."

Cal was surprised to hear her struggle with the words. He held the notebook up. "This is your side of the story huh?"

She nodded, folded her arms in front of her chest slightly, winced and unwound them again. "Why are you givin' it to me?" Cal asked softly.

"I want you to read it. No secrets."

"All right," Cal agreed with a nod. It felt like she had handed him her heart and he was afraid now of ruining it. What if he wasn't ready for a responsibility like that?

"In bed," Gillian added and took his arm, pulling him towards where they slept. She threw back the covers, found her pyjamas and then turned to him. She took the notebook and threw it lightly to the mattress, in the middle. Then she pushed back his suit jacket from his shoulders, smoothing her fingers over the lines of his shirt as she went. She placed the clothing over the end of the bed, having to step around him slightly; Cal turned with her. Then she started on his shirt, un-tucking it from his pants and unbuttoning at the bottom, working her way up. Cal watched amused as she concentrated but he didn't interrupt her with a facetious comment or by walking away. It was strangely intimate.

She slid her hands down his sleeves to the cuffs, working the buttons there, one by one, to release his wrists, pulling his shirt free from his body. She draped that over the end of the bed too, then reached for his pants. A million comments died on Cal's tongue as she worked open the button of his nice dress pants, pulled the fly down. '_Well if you wanted to get me naked_...'

"Shoes," she demanded softly, holding on to the belt loops as he shifted his weight from foot to foot as he kicked them off and toed off his socks. When he was finished she let his trousers drop to the floor, then bent, tapping each leg for him to step out of them. '_Well while you're down there..._' When she straightened up she draped the last item of clothing over the pile on the end of the frame and pushed him towards the pillows. Cal dropped to her side of the bed and turned over to his back. He was in the middle of the mattress now and sensed that was exactly where Gillian wanted him to be. She started on the buttons of her shirt, staring him down as she undressed. It was a light challenge, fun, not necessarily sexual, though it could have been. It was gently and soft and intimate in a way Cal never would have thought of before. He was glad she was showing him, glad he was figuring it out, glad he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

Gillian pulled back her shirt, revealing a candy floss pink and white bra. She turned to drape it over the end of the frame, then undid her skirt and shimmied out of it. She matched. Cal was impressed and a little turned on despite himself. Which was entirely a good thing these days, what with all his performance issues. Instead of stripping off further Gillian leaned down over the bed, crawling up his legs, then settling against his side. She gestured to the book on the mattress so he picked it up and settled back. Gillian rested her head on his shoulder and Cal started reading.

**PJ**

So this was who she had been talking to. All the confusion of those first days was here. The gradual eroding of her heart as the days dragged by and he still didn't wake up. The gut wrenching adrenaline from the seizures, the agonising wait of the surgery. The decisions she'd had to make; him, Lewis, their business. How she figured out how to cope, how to get through it, the hardening of her mind and soul. It was all here for him, laid out in a beautiful unassuming narrative. She was talking to him.

By the time Cal finished it was after midnight and that was because he had wanted to absorb every detail of her within her stunning scrawling script. When he got to the last pages, which were about the first time they had made love since the accident, that time last week, when they had really made love, Cal was aware that Gillian had fallen asleep. He closed the notebook and tucked it under his pillow on his side of the bed. Then slowly shifted his shoulder out from beneath her, hoping he wasn't going to disturb her. Wishful thinking.

"Hmm?" Gillian stirred and blinked up at him, her blue eyes dark.

"I'm gonna put the light out," Cal told her in a whisper.  
>"Teeth," she murmured. "Pyjamas."<p>

"Don't worry about it," he tried but it was too late. She was sitting up, running her hand through her hair, waking herself up enough to slide out of bed again. Cal followed her. They brushed their teeth together. Cal could feel her eyes sliding over to him periodically but with a toothbrush in his mouth he wasn't able to say much. At one point he wiggled his eyebrows at her which made her smile. He beat her back to the bedroom, taking her notebook and pushing it into the drawer of his bedside table. He leaned over the mattress for the shirt she slept in. At the moment, it was his shirt. So when Gillian put the bathroom light out he commandeered her before she could head around the bed again. He pulled her by the hand to stand in front of him and she didn't shy away as he turned her game back on her. He unclasped her bra from behind and slid it over her arms. He kept his gaze on her face, this wasn't about having a perve. He could do that easily any time he wanted to. He pulled the shirt over her head and encouraged her elbows up to push her hands through the sleeves. She gave him the ghost of a smile as he leaned forward to press a kiss against her forehead. "Now bed," he told her firmly, as if he was preparing their son for sleep.

Gillian obliged while he hung her bra over the end of his side of the bed, pushed their bedroom door almost closed, made sure the bathroom door was tightly shut and turned out the overhead lights, plunging the room into darkness. As his eyes adjusted Cal went to the curtains and pulled them gently closed, making sure there were no gaps for the light of the moon to get through. He felt his way to the bed by sense, knowing it wasn't far, slowing down when he thought he was close. "Cal?"

"Yeah luv?"

"I moved over for you."

So Cal climbed beneath the covers on her side of the bed, where it smelt heavenly and was already warm. Her hands were all over him as she attempted to settle within his embrace and it made Cal feel quivery in side, but that was not the point of this. He turned on his side to hug her close and felt her sigh more than heard it. He kissed the top of her head again. "I love you," fell out of his mouth without thinking.  
>"Love you too," Gillian murmured back. Cal felt her head shift back and lowered his chin to meet her mouth. She swept her tongue over his.<p>

"Mm minty," he muttered before she could. She gave a light chuckle. "Gill. Thanks for lettin' me read your diary."

He felt her shrug but she felt more relaxed than she had seemed in a long while. Cal kissed her forehead again and rested his cheek against the same spot, warm, content, and so very much in love with his wife.

"Did it help?"

"Yes."

"Good. Because I didn't know how else to tell you."

"I undastand," Cal whispered back.

Gillian squirmed against him. "Ok."


	69. Chapter 69

When Cal came through the front door he was aware of two things. One, was an obscene amount of noise coming from upstairs, the squeal of two high pitched voices. The second, was the obnoxious blare of the TV in the formal living room. He dropped his bag on the foot of the stairs, leaning into the room to see what was going on. Two light brown haired girls were avidly watching a movie, a bowl of popcorn between them. Cal backed up slowly and headed for the kitchen. He spotted Gillian lying on the two-seater couch, her bare feet hanging over the edge. She was in jeans and a tank top but was sheltered from the sun by the back of the couch. When he got closer, he could see her eyes were closed.

"Hey," he greeted gently, not convinced she was asleep, not with all the noise. He sat himself on the coffee table.

Her eyes flickered open. She gave him a tentative smile. "Hey."

Her eyes were glassy, her skin pale, dark rings under her eyes. "What's wrong?" Cal asked immediately.

"I don't really feel well," Gillian responded.

Cal leaned forward to press the back of his hand against her forehead. "You're very warm."

"Yeah I'm sweating," she gave a sigh. "Did you finish?"

She meant, had Cal brought the last of things from the motel and paid up? "Yeah," he confirmed, still more worried about her being clearly sick than the monumental achievement of him moving back home. "Why don't you go up stairs and have a nap?"

"With all the noise?" Gillian winced. "Are you kidding me?" Her eyes wavered like she couldn't quite focus on him.

Cal knelt on the floor by her waist so she wouldn't have to turn her head to see him. "Yeah, who _are_ all these foreign children?"

"Your nieces and nephew."

"Ah. Did it have to be today? When you're sick?"

"Mm funnily enough it was today, when we're both here," she gave a groan. "So I don't have to deal with them on my own."

"Seems unfair, seein' as they're your nieces and nephew."

Gillian shot him a half hearted glare, before closing her eyes again. "Payback is a bitch."

"Now why does that seem familia?" Cal asked dryly, bringing up a hand to brush his fingers against her cheek. Her skin was warm there too.

"It tastes particularly bitter when someone uses your own words against you," Gillian noted, her blue eyes coming open again.

Cal gave a slight raise of his eyebrows in agreement. "Did you go to work feelin' like this?"

"Yeah," Gillian sighed. "Had to. But at least these guys got me out of it early."

Cal gave a frown. "How about tryin' to have a nap here?"

"Are you kidding me? With all the noise?" She winced again.

"K, then, what do you think it is?"

"Feels like the flu."

"Can I get you anythin'?"

Gillian gave a slight shake of her head then closed her eyes slowly, taking a deep breath. "Shouldn't have done that," she murmured.

"Warta," Cal decided. "Keep your fluids up." He got to his feet again, heading for the kitchen. He pulled the doors closed and poured water from the fridge, taking it back to Gillian. He tried to give it to her but apparently she was weak as well, so he settled for leaving it on the floor beside her head. He opened a window to let in a breeze and Gillian hummed her appreciation. He kissed her forehead, telling her he was going to do the rounds, and come back and check on her.

"Uh huh," she breathed, eyes closed.

Cal headed for the living room next door, concerned but not yet worried enough to intervene. Sometimes the best way to deal with being sick was to just sleep it off. So he hoped she would nap after all. He approached the two girls, calling out a greeting when he was half way across the room. They turned startled and said hello, calling him Uncle Cal, and it was weird but kind of nice until a moment of panic gripped him; he couldn't remember their names.

"What are you watchin'?"

"Harry Potter," the youngest answered.

"Oh yeah?" Cal responded, interested. "They made that into a movie huh?" A frown in response. "Ok can you turn it down a little? Gillian's tryin' to sleep."

"In the middle of the afternoon?"

"Yes," Cal responded. "She's not feelin' so good."

The eldest reached for the remote and took the volume down a few notches. Better than nothing. "Thank you," Cal told her before heading out of the room again. He closed their doors and grabbed his bag before heading upstairs. The yelling and squealing and occasional thumps coming from Lewis's room were much more pronounced now Cal was on the second floor. Cal put his bag on the bed, unzipped it and found his notebook. He flipped through to the pages about extended family; Arianna, Rachel and Max. He put the notebook in his back pocket, dumped his dirty washing in the basket and folded the bag up, putting it at the top of the walk in wardrobe. He suddenly realised the bedroom was a mess. Only one curtain had been opened that morning. The bed hadn't been made. There were clothes strewn over the mattress. So Gillian had gone to work feeling like shit. Silly woman. She should have stayed at home, and she should have told Kate she couldn't babysit because she was ill.

Cal pulled back the curtains to let in the afternoon light, then turned for the bed and gathered up the clothes Gillian had worn to work that day. He draped them over the end of the bed, added to the pile already there and straightened the bed clothes. '_Poor Gillian_,' he thought. She still stretched herself too thin. At least on Monday that would change. He was going back to work and he was determined to lighten her load, even if it was just a little bit, in at least one small way, anything he could do. She had been taking care of him for the last four months, since the accident in May, and now he needed to reciprocate. Not just for the sake of their marriage, but for the sake of his manhood too.

A ringing phone. Cal checked his but nope... and it wasn't the home phone though it sounded suspiciously familiar... Oh Gillian's phone! He searched the bed covers and found it tucked in a small mountain of blanket. Doctor Johansson flashed on the screen. Cal hesitated. Could be private. Could be important.

"Cal speakin'," He answered politely.

"Hi there my name is Nalini calling from Doctor Johansson's office. May I speak with Gillian Lightman please?"

"Yeah she can't come to the phone right now. Can I take a message?"

"I was calling to make an appointment with her regarding her blood test results. Can you get her to call me back at hear earliest convenience?"

"I can," Cal confirmed. She thanked him. He hung up. Hmmm. He should have asked what it was about. He should have pried. She probably wouldn't have told him anything anyway. Why did Gillian need to go in for a blood test result? Wouldn't they just tell her the results on the phone? Unless something was wrong. Then they would probably want to see her. Now he was worried.

Cal finished with the bed, taking Gillian's phone with him as he headed down the hall to see his son and his cousin... Max. That was his name! The bedroom door was wide open and there were an assortment of toys spilling out into the hallway; wooden blocks, miniature cars, a soft toy, puzzle pieces. In the room Lewis was jumping on his bed, heaving plastic Lego at his cousin who had built himself a fort out of pillows, more cushions and one exceptionally large teddy bear. "Whoa!" Cal hollered over the screeching excited noise of Lewis, who was red in the face, and the returning yelling of Max, who was blindly flinging back whatever he could get his hands on.

The room suddenly went quiet. Lewis stopped jumping on his mattress. "Put that down," Cal pointed at his son firmly. The Lego fell to the messed up bed. Max appeared from his defensive wall, looking a little sheepish. "That's enough," Cal told them both. "Clean this room up and make that bed," he pointed again. "I'll be comin' back to check." With that he left, surprising himself with his authority. But at least if they toned it down a little Gillian might sleep. Because she clearly needed it.

When Cal got back downstairs it was a little quieter. The biggest source of sound pollution now was the TV. But with both sets of doors closed it was better. "Gill?" Cal approached her again.

"Mmm?"

"Are you asleep darlin'?" He whispered.

"No," her voice was firm.

"Your docta rang."

"Hm?"

"About your blood test."

"Oh what about it?"

"Said they wanted to see you."

"Busy," Gillian murmured.

Cal watched her for a moment. "When did this start?"

"This morning. I woke up feeling weird."

So perhaps it wasn't some long incubating disease... oh actually, it could be. Her blood test had been a week ago. It could take that long for symptoms to show. He was so blowing this out of proportion. "You should have stayed at home."

"Well I... had things to do."

"Are the extra giblets stayin' for dinna?" He took a seat on the coffee table, watching her again. She looked about the same.

"Uhm," she cracked an eye open to peer warily at him. "You know? I don't think I could deal with that."

"What time did Kate say she was gonna come get them?"

"She didn't really..." Gillian frowned and closed the eye again.

"What about what she was up to?"

"Um something about going to see a movie."

"K," Cal pulled her phone out of his pocket again. "I'm gonna call her."

"No don't do that."

"You just said..." Cal tried but realised she can't have been that absorbed in the conversation. Nor should he let her be. "Gill," he leaned down to her. Her hand came up to his cheek.

"Oooh you're cool."

"Yeah, I'm very cool," Cal agreed. He pressed his hand to her forehead again. She felt a little warmer. "You're gettin' worse," Cal noted. "Let me take you upstairs."

"Mmm no. It hurts to move."

"Come on Gill. I'll call Kate but you need to get into bed. And take somethin' for you feva and your aches."

"Mmm," she complained.

Cal got up and found Kate's number in Gillian's phone. If Gillian had the kids from after school, he checked his wrist for the time, frustrated again at finding he still didn't have a watch there, and used his phone instead. The movie should have just finished. Hopefully, fingers crossed, Kate would pick up. She did. Cal explained that Gill wasn't well and could Kate come back as soon as she could? Kate assured him she would. She wouldn't be more than twenty minutes. Cal apologised. Kate told him it wasn't a big deal.

Cal went back to the couch. "Gill," he picked up her arm, felt zero resistance in it. Her eyes opened as she stirred. "Bed," he told her firmly. She didn't complain and she didn't try to shunt him away. He pulled her gently to sit, swinging her legs to the floor. "Come on," he encouraged gently. "Don't make me try to carry you. I don't think I could handle it." She didn't even attempt a laugh and Cal worried some more. If she was like this in the morning he was taking her to a doctor. But first he was going to load her up in bed with water and pillows and drugs.

Gillian leaned on him as they headed up the stairs. "Mmm glad you're here."

"Me too," Cal agreed. "And stop bein' so stubborn. You gotta put you first at some point."

"Huh," Gillian breathed.

Cal marched her gently, but marched her nonetheless, into their bedroom and to her side of the bed. He pulled back the blankets, undid her jeans and took them off her. He gave her one of his pillows to prop her up, closed the curtains, and covered her with the sheet only. He went to get the glass of water from downstairs and asked the girls to keep an ear out for their mum. Then he headed upstairs for the medicine cabinet in the bathroom Lewis used. Tylenol. Good. He poked his head into Lewis's room to find the boys huddled over a pile of... cars? Looked like cars, on the floor. The bed was a mess but the fort had been dismantled and most of the shrapnel on the floor had been put away into the toy bins. Cal asked them to go downstairs, and for Max to get ready to leave, because Kate was on her way to get them.

"Aw," Lewis complained. "Why?"

"Mum's not well," Cal told him.

"What's wrong?" Lewis asked.

'_I don't know_.'

**PJ**

"You completely freaked me out."

"Aw sorry," Gillian sniffled as they lay in bed, facing each other.

"With your docta ringin' and Lewis is goin' 'what's wrong with Mum?' and you were completely out of it. I thought you could be dyin'."

He had to be exaggerating right?

Gillian gave a slight chuckle, but that hurt her abdominal wall, which had had the most thorough workout from all the coughing in the last two days since after Lewis was born. Gillian winced and Cal brought a hand up to her cheek, brushing back a piece of hair. "I'm sorry," she pouted, or at least she would have if she wasn't exhausted.

"Nasty cold huh?"

"Did I keep you awake?"

"A little. You don't rememba me sittin' you up to medicate you?"

"Not really," Gillian admitted. "Yesterday was a bit of a blur too."

"You know why right? You let yourself get run down," Cal admonished.

"Yeah yeah," Gillian huffed lightly. Her throat tickled and she fought back the urge to cough. No more coughing. Seriously.

"But you're gonna let me carry some of the burden now right?"

"Uh huh," Gillian agreed. They had already planned for him to be back at work tomorrow and their plan for dealing with the work 'issue' was becoming clearer as they chipped away at it. Gillian had expected Cal to want to be all over it first and foremost. The Lightman Group was his baby after all. But he had pleasantly surprised her by giving it secondary priority status behind their relationship. Oh yeah, he was trying.

"Wait, what did you medicate me with?"

Cal wiggled his eyebrows at her, causing a smile to pass over her lips and a stronger urge to suppress the coughing. "Just the usual luv."

She had probably gotten the worst cold in the history of the known world because she had finally started to slow down. But at least it was all over now. All of it. As a couple, they were great, as a family they were fantastic, and as far as Gillian was concerned, the last four horrible months were over. Just that one last little work problem and then they would be good and clear.

"You feel up to gettin' up today?"

"Yeah I think I could attempt a slow hobble downstairs."

"And tomorrow? Are you gonna be able to hold my hand?"

"Of course. No matter what, I will always hold your hand," Gillian promised him.

**PJ**

_So, quite the epitome this one. Thank you all for your support, for reading and for reviewing, for sticking through right to the very last chapter. I really appreciate it._

_I finished this three times, but always ended up adding a few more chapters to the end. This is the longest of all the sagas, chapter-wise obviously, but also by page count, and word count. In fact, it's the third longest story I've ever written. (At least it was, at the time of publication). Quite impressive by all counts._


End file.
